


The Mad Lion and The Wolf Bitch

by ArizonaiceT666



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst and Porn, Arya got a fat ass, Arya hates it but is into it, Arya is crazy, Blow Jobs, Cock Slapping, Could be underage but not actually specified, Deepthroating, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominance, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Joffrey Baratheon Being an Asshole, Joffrey Baratheon Lives, Mildly Dubious Consent, Misogyny, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Shameless Smut, She's as fucked up as him, Smut, Submission, but it all works out for her kinda, but not in the same way as the source material, sansa has a bad time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:20:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27359413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArizonaiceT666/pseuds/ArizonaiceT666
Summary: A smutty, dark tale about a relationship between Joffrey and Arya. Their descents into madness and depravity.Now beta-d by Nox Thrall
Relationships: Joffrey Baratheon/Arya Stark, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 68
Kudos: 177





	1. A Knight's Game

**Author's Note:**

> Takes alot of elements from the source material (including literal lines) but is it's own AU as in Ned never dies, but is imprisoned, and the war between the north and the south never rages. Stannis still tries to take the crown though.
> 
> 1st chapter realistically is only M, whet some kissing and heavy petting, but Imma get FILTHY later on so the Explicit rating is warranted

Arya was pissed. Pissed that her mother had made her wear a dress for the evening. Pissed that her bitch of a sister Sansa told her she looked like a boy dressed as a girl. Pissed that her father Ned, whom she loved dearly, was indifferent to her discomfort. But mostly, and by a wide margin, she was pissed she had to look at the blonde haired southerners cunts, the Lannisters.

Well technically they’re the Baratheons, but only in name. A Lannister stay a Lannister, even when married off. The blonde hair and fair skin doesn’t dilute, and Arya was getting sick of looking at them.  
Especially Joffrey.

This wasn’t the first time she’s met Joffrey. Least so she’s been told. She vaguely remembered his blonde hair and green eyes from her early summers. But this was the first time she actually spent any time with the Lannisters and she already knew she had a strong distaste for them. First she had to deal with them in her own home, now she was stuck on the road with them to south, to King’s Landing.

Well at least she had the Butcher’s boy, Mycah, to keep her company. She had befriended him during the travels. He was a stout boy, just like his father. Probably too sweet for his own good. She and him would have fun play sword fighting. It was one of few respites Arya had on this dreadful trip.

And of course, that was the moment where Joffrey had to stick his blonde head in it.

When he and her sister sauntered over to the to the river bank she and Mycah were playing at, Arya noticed three things.

One: they had wine. Their father, lord Stark, had only ever allowed Sansa to drink one cup of wine during meals, and judging by the redness of Sansa’s pale face, she’s had a bit more than that.

Two: Joffrey’s hand was AWFULLY low on Sansa’s back as he guided her closer. He was practically gripping her ass through her summer dress. Joffrey was regal through and through; he’d have been taught the proper way to treat your lady.

Three, and perhaps most startling to Arya: Joffrey was handsome. Arya of course had seen Joffrey before, but there was something about him today, maybe it was the pure sunlight, maybe how his tunic was fitted today, but the boy looked truly magnificent. Somewhere low in her belly something ignited. Arya decided to dismiss it as a cramp.

*whack*

“Ow!” Arya yelped.

Distracted by the appearance of Joffrey and her sister, Arya had left her back open for Mycah, who caught her right on the side of the arm with the stick that stood in for their swords.

“What are you doing here? Go away!” She demanded

Sansa looked annoyed, while Joffrey ... looked highly amused by her response?

“Your sister?” Joffrey asked, already knowing the answer.

Then his eyes shifted to Mycah, and the feeling in the air changed.

“And who are you boy?” Joffrey ordered.

“Mycah, m’lord” he said, dropping the stick.

“He is the butcher’s boy” Sansa interjected.

“He’s my FRIEND” Arya retorted

Joffrey stalked slowly toward Mycah.

“A butcher’s boy who wants to be a knight ... pick up your sword butcher’s boy, let us see how good you are.” He said, drawing his very REAL blade. A short steel sword, meant for personal defense.

Mycah’s eyes widened to saucers, as he took a half step back.

Arya’s eyes darted between the two. Just like a Lannister, always ruining a fine time, she thought.

“She asked me to m’lord! She asked me to!” Mycah rambled out.

“I’m your prince. Not your lord. And I said, pick up your sword.”

Joffrey’s tone was deadly serious. Sansa looked startled in the background, the conversation was turning very, very dangerous. She didn’t dare interject however, as that was not a lady’s place.

“It’s not a sword m’prince, it’s only a stick.” Mycah tried.

“And you’re not a knight. Only a butcher’s boy” Joffrey answers, slowly raising his blade to the butcher’s boys cheek.  
He takes a slight glance at Arya, eyes unreadable.

“That was my lady’s sister you were hitting, do you know that?” he asks.

“Stop it!” Arya demanded. This was going too far. She didn’t know what Joffrey’s problem was but she didn’t want Mycah to get hurt because of her. It was just a game after all, she thought.

Joffrey takes a side glance at Arya, looking her up and down. Arya had to suppress a blush at the handsome young man apprising her, all the while thinking what was wrong with her. She surely wasn’t flustered by that prick of prince. Surely. He takes his time going up and down her form, taking in a particular appreciation of her lower half.  
Arya was still a young woman coming into her adulthood. She was plain faced -least that’s what her sister always called her- and didn’t have much of a bosom to speak of.

But what she did have was hips. Yes, Arya had taken after her mother, in having very generous birthing hips. Arya herself hated it. One day suddenly her pants she always wore, wouldn’t come over her bubbling backside. Arya always saw it as just another thing for Sansa to ridicule her about.

Truth is, Sansa was actually quite jealous of Arya’s assets. The elder Stark girl was always seen as the perfect young lady. Pretty, well kept, and while petite, she was shapely for a girl of her size and appetite (or rather lack thereof). But there were many pretty ladies that fit this description. In a way, she was just another pretty lady. Arya however was filling out in a way that was unique to her. 

In short, Sansa was jealous of her sister’s fat ass.

Suddenly, Joffrey tears his eyes away from Arya, sheathes his sword, and takes a step back. An unvoiced feeling of relief washes over Arya, Sansa and Mycah. 

“Know what, you’re right Mycah.” Joffrey suddenly says.

“M’lo- I mean M’prince?” Mycah asks confused.

“It’s not a sword. It’s a stick. And you two were just playing of course. But how about we play now. A game.” Joffrey answers. He grabs the stick from Arya’s hands, and gestures to the stick in the grass.

“Pick up your stick butcher’s boy. We’re going to have a little contest.”

“A…contest?”

“Yes a contest, are you hard of hearing butcher’s boy? Unless you rather play with the real thing of course.” Joffrey grips the hilt of his blade for emphasis.

Not wanting to tempt fate or to incur the wrath of his prince any further, Mycah quickly grabs his stick, gripping it tightly in his hand.

Satisfied, Joffrey continues.

“We’re going to play as knights. And the beautiful Stark girls will be our ladies.”

“I’m NOBODY’S lady.” Arya yell through clenched teeth.

“Of course not. Not yet anyway. It’s just pretend, like you were doing.” Joffrey answers back in a condescending tone. He then turns his attention back to Mycah.

“We’re going to play as knights. And the Starks will be our ladies. Sansa as mine, and Arya as yours. We duel, and the winner gets as reward a kiss from the vanquished knight’s lady. Sound good?” Joffrey explained.

Mycah’s eyes grew wide and a blush started creeping up his face, Sansa looked absolutely scandalized, and Arya let her open disgust show on her face.

“Joffrey my love. I don’t think thi-“ Sansa began before Joffrey cuts her off.

“A lady has no opinion to say in the matters of combat.” He bites.

Sansa shrinks back, and takes a swig of wine. Arya at this point is speechless. The sudden turn of events had thrown her head for a whirl. Mere seconds ago Joffrey looked ready to kill her friend, and now he wants to play a game of knights with him? The boy truly confused her.

“So what do you say butcher’s boy. This is probably the closest to a knight you’ll ever be.” Joffrey smirks.  
“Uhm- well I suppose m’pr-

“Great.”

At that, Joffrey swings his stick, whacking Mycah in the side of the head. Mycah stumbles back, now with a light gash formed on his outer brow. Blood trickles down over his eye.

“Hey! He wasn’t ready!” Arya yells.

“A knight is always ready.” Joffrey says as he marches towards the startled boy.

Joffrey swings his stick wildly over his head. Mycah manages to raise his in time to defend himself, but the force and the shock of the blow knocks him on his butt. Joffrey doesn’t give him a chance to get up, reigning down blow after blow onto the young boy. After a few swings, Mycah gives up trying to use the stick to defend himself, and curls into a ball, trying to cover his head the best he can.

“Stop it! Stop it, you’re hurting him! Sansa do SOMETHING!” Arya shrieked.

Sansa had the grace to look mildly ashamed when she cast her eyes downward and said nothing. This was getting out of hand. Arya leaps in front of Mycah’s curled up body and pushes her hands forward.

Joffrey stops a downswing inches away from her face.

“Wait! Wait. You win. You beat him. Please just stop.” Arya practically begs. She glances back at Mycah, still in the fetal position, trembling in fear and pain.

Joffrey’s intense glare switches in an instant, back to the signature Lannister smirk.

“Well that was fun wasn’t it?” He saids looking over Mycah’s trembling form. All Mycah can do is groan and sob in response.

“Now I suppose it is time I take my rightful reward.”

“Wh-“ Arya begins before she is pulled by a hand in her back into a burning kiss.

Arya’s eyes go wide at the sudden intrusion of her mouth. Joffrey’s kiss is rough and demanding. Being a fair bit taller then her, She goes onto her tip-toes on instinct, but she still has to incline back her neck.

Joffrey drops his stick, and uses his hand to grasp Arya by her hair, gripping tightly. Arya would have protested loudly if he wasn’t currently devouring her mouth. He deepens the kiss further, forcing his tongue into Arya’s small mouth, a low groan emanating from him as he does. Arya can do nothing but feebly grasp onto his tunic like her life depend on it.

Slowly Joffrey pulls away, a trail of spit lingering between their mouths.

“I- I-buh” Arya tries, but the words aren’t forming in her clouded head. Her pupils are blown, nostrils flaring, and a red flush has traveled up from her collarbone to her cheeks.

“To the victor, goes the spoils” Joffrey chuckles darkly.

Mycah finally begins to stir and lifts his head, looking at the pair. His face cut and bruised, he locks eyes with Joffrey, before quickly casting them downward.

As if incensed by his gaze, Joffrey goes in for seconds, still gripping Arya by the scalp. This time Arya allows her eyes to flutter close, subconsciously melting into the fierce kiss. Arya had never felt anything like this before. Suffice it to say, this was her very first kiss. She had never thought of kissing anyone. Romance, intimacy, anything vaguely lady like were always the last things on her mind. Yet now here she is, moaning into the mouth of a Lannister.  
The hand on Arya’s lower back, slowly shifts downwards, before finally landing on her supple ass. Joffrey takes a generous handful, causing Arya to gasp into his mouth. He slowly kneads it, getting to know every detail of her bubble but through her dress. He switches back and forth between her cheeks a few times, before giving it a firm slap, eliciting another gasp, and moan from Arya.

In the back, Sansa looked absolutely miserable. There she was, watching her betrothed kiss her little sister with the passion he should be showing HER. Arya always ruins everything she thought, but too submissive and proper to speak up, all she does is take another big sip of wine.

Arya at this point was on another world. Her body was feeling things she never though possible. There was a tingling between her legs that she only felt in brief moments during particularly rough terrain on horseback. Without realizing it, she slowly began to grind her hips, rubbing one of Joffrey’s legs between hers. Her dress, and his pants halted any direct contact, but the friction she was feeling was wonderful all the same.

Joffrey took notice of her ministrations and slowly pulled back from the kiss. Arya on instinct tried to follow and reattach her lips, before catching herself. Joffrey roughly tilts her head back, forcing her eyes open to look at him.  
“My, you are just like a bitch in heat. Guess you Starks are wolves after all”

“Wha- I’m not-“ Arya began, before it suddenly dawned on her that she was still rubbing her cunt on Joffrey’s leg. She wanted to stop, least that what she told herself, but her own body was betraying her, nor allowing her to stop. She was so close to her top, to a peak she didn’t even know was there.

And then it all came crashing down, as quickly as it started.

Joffrey screamed as was suddenly on the ground. It took a second for Arya’s brain to re-wire itself back to her surroundings. Her mind cleared, and a flurry of white and grey was tearing at Joffrey’s hand, while her sister was wailing like a banshee.

Nymeria. Her girl must have thought Joffrey was attacking Arya. In a way he was. Direwolves have a deep instinct to protect, especially when untrained like Nymeria was.

A particularly loud shriek finally pulls Arya back to attention.

“Nymeria!” She yells, grabbing the dire wolf by the scruff her neck and pulling her back. After another tug, Nymeria unclamps her jaws from Joffrey’s hand.

Nymeria settles by Arya’s side, still ready to attack if needed. All is silent, besides the pained whimpers escaping from Joffrey. Arya looks down at him, wondering how could this be the same person who had her mewling like a maiden in a song just seconds ago. She looks back at Sansa, who’s face is red from screeching, her face a mixture of concern for Joffrey, and pure hatred for Arya.

She looks over to Mycah, who is now in a seated position, face and neck bruised and red with welts. He doesn’t know what to make of what just happened. He had been threatened, insulted, beaten, and watched the girl he though was his friend, kiss and grind against the person who did it, like a common whore.

“M-m’lady?” Mycah finally asked, after taking a while to formulate words.

Arya casts her eyes to the grounds.

“I’m nobody’s lady.” she mumbles, more to herself than anything.

And then she turns and runs.


	2. Head Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya visits Joffrey late at night, to try and make a deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS is where the nasty nasty starts. Explicit content ahead, centered around rough oral sex and psudo-prostitution.

Cersei Baratheon was a right cunt. Everyone knew it. She was the queen of the realm yet she still managed to have an air of unearned self importance. She didn’t have many positive qualities, but if there was one thing that you couldn’t fault her on, was that she loved all her children with a passion that could, and (possibly would) bring kingdoms to their knees.  
So when she found out that her son had been, as she put, “animal nearly tore his arm off.” She was ready to put heads on pikes. Had Arya had any other last name, that probably would’ve been a reality. Noble names tend to save one from the worst of consequences. Also doesn’t hurt to have your father be the best friend of the king.

When she was finally found after running into the woods with Nymeria, she was brought right the king and queen. Cersei face was stone and regal, but Arya could tell she was seething under her calm veneer. Rob Baratheon looked as if having to deal with this was of great inconvenience to him. And Joffrey- when Arya was dragged in, Joffrey bore into her immediately, saying nothing. When the patriarch Stark finally arrived, he embraced her deeply, while she rambled off apologies. She wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for. None of this was HER fault, she thought.

Joffrey spun a tale, that he, in his infinite kindness, was merely playing with the butchers boy. A friendly sword fight when sticks. When the boy inevitably loss to the much more skilled prince, he got mad and attacked Joffrey with the intent to do harm, and Joffrey was just defending himself. And that the dire wolf came out of nowhere and attacked him.

Arya wasn’t sure that Ned, King Rob, nor even Cersei believed him, but the word of a prince tends to carry weight. Sansa’s feigning of ignorance didn’t help. Arya swear she mouthed “little whore” as she walked up. Sick of the proceedings, or lack thereof, King Rob dismissed everything as a young squabble, but not before Cersei, in her infinite pettiness, demanded that Lady, Sansa’s direwolf be killed. Sansa and Arya begged for their father to listen to them, Lady was innocent in all this, but his hand was forced. In the morning, Lady would be put down.

This isn’t what Arya wanted. Sansa was in shambles. crying all over the place. She needed to fix this, and she needed to do it quick. 

It was already late when the psudo-tribunal was let out. Sansa ran straight to her quarters. Arya went slowly to hers, but she wouldn’t stay there long. After things quieted down, she changed into her favorite pair of breeches, and she snuck out of her room. She was always nimble and sneaky. She made her way out of her room, and soon she was at her destination. Joffrey’s room. She was able to scale the wall leading to Joffrey’s second room window. She peered in and saw Joffrey in his nightwear, frowning at the cut on his hand. Gently, she knocked on the window, and nearly laughed when he almost jumped out of his skin. He looked over and saw the top of her head looking at him. Utterly confused, he went over and opened his window.

“What are you doing here girl?” He demanded.

Arya didn’t wait to be invited before climbing through the window. Joffrey looked rather abashed that he ignored his question.  
“ I said-“ He began before being cut off.

“You have to tell your mother to leave Lady” Arya puts blankly.

At this Joffrey looks utterly appalled. He was a prince. He didn’t HAVE to do anything.

“I HAVE to?” He asks in an incredulous tone. By now Arya has moved across the room and sat on Joffrey’s large bed. She tries to puff her self out, and make her self seem more intimidating than she actually was.

“Yes, you HAVE to.” She began. “Lady didn’t do anything. She wouldn’t have bit you if she didn’t think you were attacking me. If you weren’t-“ Arya stopped herself.

“If I wasn’t what? Making you squirm. Rub yourself on me like a common street whore?” Joffrey says through a cruel smirk.

Arya should’ve called him a cunt. Son of a whore, something. But his words seemed to have the opposite effect on her brain and body. Instead she went with a feeble “You wish.” 

“Look here girl, I don’t have to do anything. Your wild animal escaped, so now the next best thing has to happen. Your sister’s dog is going to be killed and skinned. Maybe I’ll have a winter coat made out of her.” Joffrey causally says, as if not describing something horrible. 

Arya leaps to her feet at this.

“You can’t just-“ She begins, before Joffrey suddenly grabs her by her jaw, effectively silencing her.

“I can do anything I want. I am your prince, and one day I will be your king. If I wanted, I could have every dire wolf hunted to extinction.” He threatens, still tightly gripping Arya’s jaw.

This wasn’t going as Arya expected. What did she expect? That she would go in and bully Joffrey into’s submission. He was a head taller than her, and stronger too. He was the prince. She had to try something else. She had to-

“P-please Joffrey.” She begged

Joffrey’s eyebrows shot up, not expecting this sudden shift from her. He slightly loosens his grip on her jaw, now just holding her chin in place. He stares at her as she continues.

“I-it’s not Lady’s fault. She wasn’t there. It was my dire wolf that attacked you. I can fix this. I-I can-“ She rambled as Joffrey stares down at her.

“Do-do you want another kiss? I can do that. If you’d like”

Shame burns in the pit of Arya’s stomach, along with a tingling. The same one she felt by the river. Joffrey continues to look down at her, the gears moving in his head, his eyes searching her face for any tell of deception. Finally he says- 

“I don’t want another kiss”

Arya doesn’t know why, but she feels a tinge of disappointment by his answer. She thinks she’s failed to convince him. Until.

“On your knees” Joffrey says quietly.

“What” Arya answers, blinking up at the taller boy.

“I said on your knees. If you want your little pet’s life spared, you have to earn it.” He states simply, letting go of her chin.

“Earn it? Earn it how?” Arya asks, dread building inside her.

At this Joffrey laughs, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Stupid girl,” He says. “You’ll earn it by sucking my cock.” Joffrey finishes.

Arya’s eyes grow to the size of saucers. 

“I-what? I’m your betrothed’s sister!” Arya gasps out. This night certainly was going south quickly.

Joffrey just shrugs at this.

“And I’m the prince. Your mouth has been causing be problems all day. And I did enjoy shutting you up by the river bank.” He saids smugly. “And if you want your little doggy to live, you’ll use your mouth to please your prince” He says moving to the edge of his bed.

“I- you-but…..ok.” She relents.

This was not how Arya expected this to go at all.

Joffrey’s face shows surprise for a brief moment before falling back into his default smirk.

“Come over here.” He commands.

Arya stars to move toward him.

“Aht” He stops her, pointing to the floor “On. Your. Knees. 

Arya’s face turns crimson. She slowly drops to her knees, and shuffles over to Joffrey’s standing form. She reaches him, face hovering right in front of his clothed crotch. He tilts her head up at him, looking into his eyes in both defiance, but also searching for direction.

“Now pull my breeches down” He says, still smirking.

Arya flares her nostrils at him, but does what she’s told. She undoes the knot to his breeches, and once loose, allows them to fall, and

*PLOP*

Joffrey’s half hard member falls onto her face. 

Arya tries to pull back on instinct but Joffrey is too fast, grabbing the back of her head and holding her in place, letting his cock rest on her face as it scrunches in disgust. Joffrey wiggles his hips back and forth, enjoying the sensation of his cock rubbing against Arya’s cheek, nose and eyes, hardening as he does it. Joffrey grabs his member by the base, and taps it against Arya’s closed lips a few times, before dragging it up to her nose.

“Get a good whiff” He says laughing, clearly enjoying her humiliations.

Arya narrows her eyes at him, but inhales deeply anyway. To her surprise, it’s not as bad as she thought it’d be. In fact, she’d consider the smell objectively pleasant, a natural musk, mixed with fine soaps. Prince’s had the luxury of bathing everyday, and Arya took this as a small blessing.

Suddenly Joffrey yanks onto her head, driving her face into he slightly wrinkled balls. On instinct Arya inhales, rubbing her nose back and forth on his sack. They’re bigger than she expected them to be, not that she ever thought of them before this moment. In fact, Joffrey’s cock was something to behold. Joffrey was a healthy boy, but rather skinny. But his cock, as it hardened, was coming out at 9 inches, with a sizable, slightly purples head. Guess his cock matched his ego unfortunately. 

After a few minutes of rubbing his sack on Arya’s features, as she submissively took it, he pulls back fully. Arya is red in the face. A few stars blonde hairs litter the area around her nose. Her nostrils flaring as she looks up at Joffrey with heat in her eyes.  
“Enough fucking around then. Open your mouth and stick out your tongue” Joffrey barks, suddenly taking a primal lookin his eyes.

Slowly Arya complies, opening her mouth, and allowing her tongue to rest against her bottom lip. Joffrey slowly drags the head of his cock across her tongue. Again, it’s more pleasant than Arya anticipated, having a slightly salty taste as skin does, but not unpleasant. Experimentally, Arya wiggles her tongue on the tip, lavishing it. She swirls around the tip, making sure to get all sides. 

Joffrey closes his eyes and and allows his head to fall back. Still gripping her hair, he begins to slightly massage her head subconsciously. A spike of pride shoots through Arya. Her father always told her to be good at anything she does. She just happens to be sucking cock, but those details he doesn’t need.

Slowly Arya encases the tip in her mouth, still running her tongue around the tip. If this was sucking cock, this was easy, she thought. Joffrey was already ready to blow with little effort on her part. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“Stop” He suddenly says, pushing Arya’s head off him.

“I- did I do something wrong “Arya asks confused. She tries to hide the concern and disappointment from her voice.

“Ha! No. Who’d have know you’d be a natural. Doubt your sister would be this fun” He says.

Arya has to stop herself from saying thank you. She should be mortified by these “compliments” but she can’t help but take pride in one using her perfect older sister in SOMETHING.

Suddenly Joffrey’s face get’s serious again.

“Brace yourself. The foreplay is over.” Joffrey says gravely.

Arya doesn’t have time to think about why she was told to brace herself, before Joffrey attempts to shove all 9-inches of his dick down Arya’s small throat.

“HRRUKK….” She heaves loudly at the sudden intrusion. Joffrey only manages to cram about 5-inches of his cock in her throat, before her gag reflex and sputtering forces him to pull back. He doesn’t pull all the way out though. He bring his head to the inside of her check, and makes it bulge out to the side lewdy. He enjoys the sensation for a few seconds before doing the same to her other cheek.

Arya wised up and braced herself against Joffrey’s pale thighs. Tears were already spilling from her eyes from the sudden intrusion. Joffrey goes right back to trying to cram his dick in her throat. This time, instead of trying al at once, he takes a gradual approach, pumping his hips and feeding her more and more of his meat dragon as he does.

“Glurck,….Glurck…GLURCK” Is the only sound Arya can make. Joffrey slowly rocks his hips, sawing more and more of his cock into Arya’s tight throat. She tries to breathe through her nose, but Joffrey’s fat member is blocking he airway. She looks up at him with begging tearful eyes, but he takes no notice, eyes closed, head tilted back in pleasure. Once about six inches of his cock is lodged in her throat, he begins to speed up his pumps, enjoying her tight esophagus around his cock. “Glurck…..Glurck….GLURCK…..GLURCK”.

Joffrey pulls all the way out her mouth, allowing Arya to get a much needed gasp of air. Her nose is running, tears stain her cheeks, he lips swollen. Her hair is a mess from how hard Joffrey was gripping it. She looks up at him in a daze, breathing heavily. He’s breathing heavily too, but more focused than ever.

“Ok, you’re going to take me down all the way now, to the balls. I wanna fell your tongue on them.”

Arya nods dumbly, barely reregistering what he just said. She takes one last gasp of air, before Joffrey shoves her back down on his prick. Slowly, slowly, he pushes her further and further onto his cock, her lips spreading obscenely as she moves down. Her grip on his thighs would surely leave bruises, but Joffrey was so lost in his own pleasure, he probably couldn’t feel it.  
“You’re almost there. You’re doing so good” He praises.

Something about Joffrey’s praise sparks something deeps within Arya’s belly. For a reason that she couldn’t explain, Arya leans forward, essentially aiding Joffrey, and forced feeding the final 2 inches of his 9-inch cock down her throat. 

“GRRRRRRRK…” She wretched loudly as she reached her goal. Her tongue flat between his member and her bottom lip, lapped at his balls. Her nose buried in his wild pubic hair.

Joffrey was in paradise. He had the mouthy Stark bitch impaled on his cock. She was so much more fun than her sister, who shied away if Joffrey’s hand so much as strayed somewhere “improper”. Now here he was, ramming his cock down the throat of the youngest Stark girl. Getting mauled by dire wolves was worth it if this was the outcome. Somewhere in his inner monologue, Joffrey noticed that Arya was no longer clawing at his thighs. Looking down, he was met by the white of Arya’s eyes. Her eyes had rolled into the back of her head. Her arms were dangling limp by her side. He couldn’t pinpoint when, but he’d been fucking her barely conscious face for a while now. While the thought excited him, choking the stark girl to death on his dick probably would be a bit hard to explain, so gripping her braid, he slowly drags her off his member.

“Shllloooorp..” Her throat lewdly sounded as he finally pulled himself from her throat.   
Arya once again gasped for much deprived air, her chest heaving deeply. Her chin and nigh shirt were covered in her own spit and throat slime.

*WHAP*

Suddenly Joffrey cock-slaps her right across the face, turning her head with his heavy cock.

“Hey, still with me girl?” He asks, before slapping her once again with his hard member. Arya nods mutely, still gasping for air, mind in an oxygen deprived haze. “Good.” He says before reigning down more blows from his cock down upon her face.

After he fells he’s sufficiently battered her features with his cock, smearing pre-cum and saliva all over her face, he pulls back fully, letting his member stare directly at her. Arya looks up questioningly, eyes still clouded.

“Alright girl, you’re in the final stretch. All you have to do is swallow my seed. Even a dumb Stark like you can do that right?” He asks cruelly. Arya, coming back to some slight awareness asks “T-this is it? Once I’m done, you’ll leave Lady alone?”

Her words pained her, both from the rawness of her throat from the onslaught of abuse, and for the submissive demeanor she’s taken to try and save the life of their direwolf. She was lowering herself farther than she ever thought possible.

“Yes, yes!” He saids in patiently, tightening his grip on her her hair, making her wince. “Your little doggy will be fine, now open your fucking mouth.” He barks.

Arya complies automatically, opening her mouth wide, sticking out her tongue. Joffrey quickly fills the space with his massive meat. Not bothering to play around, Joffrey sets a rapid brutal pace fucking Arya’s face

“GLRURK… GLURCK… GLUK… GROCLK…” retched Arya as Joffrey used her throat like his own personal cocksleeve. He pulled her in, matching his thrusts, bobbing her down his full 9 inches, while pulling out 4, over and over. Arya didn’t bother to hold onto Joffrey’s thighs this time, rather laying them in her lap, fisting the hem of her shirt. She can feel her consciousness start to fade again, as she cranes her eyes upwards. Through her haze, she sees Joffrey’s intense glare staring back at her, jaw tight, nostrils flaring, like a man hard at work.

With a final grunt, Joffrey bottoms’s out in her throat. For a split second Arya thinks it’s just to torture her more, until she feels his member swell in the tight constrictions of her throat. Her eyes shoot open as he begins to feel Joffrey’s hot seed spray down her throat, directly into her stomach. Her mother’s lessons on the human body, and opposite sex couldn’t prepare her for the sheer VOLUME of cum that was being forced down into her stomach, or how thick it was. It felt like sludge was rolling down her esophagus. Some burst out of her nose from sheer volume, uncomfortable, but not at all the most uncomfortable things she’s felt in the last hour.

After what felt like a life time, and Joffrey shallowly rocking his hips making sure his balls were absolutely empty, did he begin to pull back. Pulling out until his tip was the only thing left in Arya’s mouth, he gave his length a few pumps, slick with his own cum and Arya’s saliva. He generously spurted more cum into Arya’s mouth, which she swallowed on instinct. Finally he pulls himself completely out, it releasing from Arya’s tight out with a slight *pop*, letting his member fall limply between his legs. He shakes it off a bit before tucking it back in his pants.

He let’s go over her hair, and Arya immediately falls forward. She has to stop herself from allowing her head hit the floor. She heaves and gasps for air: throat burning, face and shirt wet from her own drool mixed with Joffrey’s seed, her scalp hurts from where Joffrey had his vice grip. Though a complete mess, she got it through it, and strangely Arya took slight pride in that.

Arya allows herself a few moments to recuperate on the cool floor of Arya’s room, before lifting her head. She met with the site of Joffrey, back in bed, looking exhausted as if HE just did all the work. 

“Jo-Joffrey” She rasps out. Joffrey snaps back to half attention, still in the process of passing. “Lady?” She asks. Througha haze of sleepiness, Joffrey waves his hand.

“Yes, yes. I’ll be sure to speak with my mother in the morning. Your precious little pet can live” He says, getting comfortable in his bed. 

Trying her luck, Arya decides push further.

“And…the butcher’s boy”

Yawning, Joffrey responds.

“Yes….and the butcher’s boy….too…zzzzzzzz”.

Looking at Joffrey’s now sleeping form, Arya doesn’t know if she should let herself feel relieved or not. She’s going on Joffrey’s word, and she already knows he’s a liar. Right now, there wasn’t much she could do about it, but if Joffrey doesn’t keep his word, sure tells herself that she’ll be back in his quarters at night, with something he’d enjoys considerably less. 

“Are you two quiet done in there?” Says a gruff voice from outside the room.

Arya freezes. She’s sure she feels her heart stop.

The door to Joffrey’s room creeks open, and in walks in a mountain of a man, missing half his face. The Hound. Joffrey’s personal bodyguard and dog. He takes a few steps and halts himself right in front of Arya, who has to crane her neck up to see him.

The Hound looks around the room, to Joffrey sleeping form, back to Arya freshly fucked face, face not changing from his bored grimace. Arya is petrified on the spot. How could she not figure that there’d be a guard outside! Joffrey’s dog no less. She was fucked she thought. Stupid. STUPID-

“Well I’d figure you’d best be on your way” He says in his low gravely voice, snapping Arya out of her daze. “There’s two other guards stationed down the hall, and at the bottom of the stairs. Doubt they heard you. Sound doesn’t travel to good here, plus they’re useless cunts. Best go back out the way you came in.” He finishes, indicating to the window with his chin. And with that, he turns to leave the room, but not before looking over his shoulder.

“Don’t worry little wolf, I could give a fuck bout’ you nobles and yer doings. Plus, not the craziest thing to happen with this fucking family.” He says, before walking out the room, slowly closing the door.

Not knowing what to think, and not knowing what to do, for the second time today, Arya turns and runs  
______________________________________________________________________________

In the morning, everything seems normal, so Arya figures that The Hound was true to his word, and said nothing of what he heard or saw last night. She had to be careful not to rasp when she spoke, giving away the nature of her abused throat. At the morning meal, that’s when things turned interesting. Cersei was fiercely whispering to her son, an angered look on her face. Joffrey couldn’t be bothered to have more than an annoyed expression on his face at his mother nagging him. Finally he turns to his mother and says “That’s my decision mother.” Before turning back to her food. Abashed, Cersei excuses herself from the meal, claiming to not be hungry.

To his credit, Joffrey kept his word. He told his mother he wanted no action against Lady, telling her “What kind of King would I be if I let a little dog scare me?” Cersei tried to get him to change his mind but ultimately had to relent, though obviously furious. When Sansa learned about this, she whispered to herself and her helpers “Oh I knew it! I knew my love wouldn’t do this to me!”

Oh if only she knew.

Joffrey even kept his word about Mycah, telling his father that their sword fight just got a little heated. King Rob seemed satisfied by this, the gruff man that he is, probably could relate. Cersei was again furious, and ordered that the Butcher and his Boy be relieved of their positions. Though Ned tried to argue, Rob had it be done, figuring it’d be easier than hearing his wife’s mouth for the whole trip about it. Arya was saddened to have him go, but she supposed it was better than the alternative. Plus if Mycah knew what she lowered herself to, he’d probably want nothing more to do with her anyway.

Appearance were back to normal. Joffrey was back to his smug self, Sansa was back to fawning over him, and Arya was back to hating the fucking Lannisters. She had no idea how she was going to make it through the rest of these travels, and their stay at Kings’ Landing.


	3. Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya gets trained

King’s Landing certainly wasn’t the north. For one, it smelled like shit Arya decided. The weather was too warm for her liking. There was nowhere close for her to ride a horse and enjoy nature. Her brothers weren’t there. Her sister Sansa was still being a right cunt to her. Problem after problem. 

Then of course there was Joffrey. The prince that had used her like a common whore. She should be mad. She should be furious. What right did he have to treat her like he did. Prince or not, what happened on the Kingsroad would be deemed unacceptable, maybe even a crime if she told anyone.

Yet she didn’t tell anyone.

Partially because she knew if it was her word against his, he’d win every time. He was an expert liar, and besides that, no one wanted to cross the Lannisters. But there was something else. Was it shame? Embarrassment? She was sure that was it. At least PART of it.

There was one saving grace in all of this. Her father. While he was busy all the time, and there were entire days where she wouldn’t see him, when she did, he tried his best to make her happy, and convince her that all was not dire in King’s Landing. She didn’t believe him of course, but she at least appreciated the effort. But what she really appreciated, was the gift he gave her so that she would drive herself mad. Sword lessons.

Arya had always been interested in swordplay, but anything she had learned had been from her brother or just from practicing herself. Her mother flat out refused to allow her to receive lessons in Winterfell. And naturally her father wouldn’t dare contradict her mother….when she was around. 

Syrio Forel had to be the most interesting man Arya had ever met. Charming, wordly, and skilled. He didn’t treat Arya like a child. She was his student, and he did call her “girl” all the time, but he clearly respected her, and her efforts to master the blade. His lessons weren’t easy, but Arya felt herself grow more skilled everyday. While her lessons with Syrio were mid day, Arya often found herself practicing independently all throughout. Syrio gave her some rather unorthodox assignments to help her become better. Walking around on her toes, trying to catch stray cats, balancing books on her head, things she could do around the castle whenever she was free.

One particular knight, Arya decided to get a session in. She grabbed her training sword and headed to her usual practice spot. After doing some stretches she began her drills. Flowing, fighting, dancing. It had only been 2 weeks but she felt faster and more flexible than she ever did before. She was starting to break a sweat but kept going. In these moments alone, she forgot where she was. She forgot she was in a city that smelt like shit. She forgot she missed her brothers. She forgot her sister glared daggers at her whenever they were together. She was actually content.

“What in the gods are you doing?”

And just like that, it came crashing down.

Jofffrey. This is exactly what she didn’t need right now. She was thrown off her rhythm.

“Go away Joffrey” She said, restarting her routine. She wouldn’t look at him, she wouldn’t give him that.

“What are you doing?” He repeated, stepping closer

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m practicing sword fighting”

“Ha! Swordfighting? It looks like you’re dancing. Which makes sense. Girls can’t sword figh-“

Before he can finish his thought, Arya spins and closes the distance between them. She puts the tip of her practice sword at Joffrey’s throat, pushing him back slightly. Instinctively his hands go up in a current position.

“Don’t mistake me Joffrey. I’m no butcher's boy” She says smirking. Joffrey pushes the practice blade out of his face, which was red from embarrassment and his rising anger.

“No, I suppose you’re not a butcher boy. Doubt a butcher's boy could suck cock like you.” He said with a scowl. It was Arya’s turn to go red in the face. She had successfully managed to avoid Joffrey these past weeks. Though she would feel his eyes on her often, she never allowed herself to be cornered by him; dragged into another confrontation. Until now that is.

“Fuck you, Joffrey.” She said, jabbing the tip of her practice sword into his chest.

Wrong move. Quickly, he grabbed the sword, and pulled hard to one side, causing Arya to stumble forwards. Syrio would be disappointed if he saw her now, allowing herself to be thrown off balance so easily, both physically and mentally. Joffrey caught her, arm snaking around her hip, pulling her flush against his torso.

“It’s a compliment.” He sneered. He let his hand wander, sneaking to Arya’s backside. He gave her ass a quick squeeze, causing Arya to gasp.

He sure did love her ass. She glared up at him as he fondled her, squeezing her cheeks through her tight pants. She tried to pull back but his grasp was firm.

“Get your hand off of me.” She demanded as she squirmed in his grasp. Bad move, as it caused her chest to rub against his. She didn’t wear binding while practicing, not that she had much to bind anyway. She felt her nipples harden as they rubbed against the fabric of her shirt. She hoped Joffrey wouldn’t notice.

“And why should I? You didn’t have any complaints rubbing yourself against me earlier. Or taking my manhood down your throat. For emphasis, Joffrey gave her right cheek a light smack, and ran her other hand up over her throat. Arya swallowed, as she stared into his predatory eyes. Joffrey allowed his hand to travel upwards more, over her chin until his fingers were at her lips. He pressed his thumb against her mouth, silently demanding entry. Slowly she parted her lips, allowing the digit to slide in. She gave it a gentle suck. Joffrey looked genuinely surprised at her compliance, and smiled widely.

“That’s a good gi-OH!” He yelled, as Arya’s teeth came crashing down on his thumb. Yelling, he pushed her back hard, causing her to tumble ungracefully onto the stone floor. 

Joffrey looked at his thumb, now as red as his seething face.

“You’re going to fucking pay for that girl.” 

Joffrey snatched up the practice sword that had fallen out of Arya’s hand and marched over to the prone girl. Arya rolled over to her stomach, trying to push herself up into her knees. Suddenly something was on the back of her head, pushing her face back down to the floor. It was Joffrey’s boot. He stood over her, pinning her down to the ground with his foot; Not enough pressure to hurt or do any permanent damage, but enough where she wasn’t going anywhere, despite how she struggled, ass sticking in the air.

“Get the fuck off me!” She screamed, trying to get up to no avail.

*CRACK!*

Arya’s eyes went wide as she let out a yelp, Joffrey just spanked her with her own practice sword.

“What do you think you’re-”

“Be quiet” He said in a deadly serious tone. Despite herself, Arya found herself complying. Arya turned her head under his boot, neck and eyes craning to get a look at him. He was staring down at her, eyes full of anger, and something else. Never taking his foot off of her head, Joffrey squats down and grabs the waist of Arya’s pants. With a hard tug, he pulls them down over her hips, exposing her bare ass to the cool night air.

Now Arya REALLY began to struggle. She was panicking. She made a mistake. She should’ve known that Joffrey was capable of terrible things. He was a Lannister. And now he was going to rape her. All because she couldn’t stop herself. All because she wasn’t a good enough fighter. All-

“Relax. I’m not going to fuck you” He said, as if reading her thoughts. Arya felt herself relax a little at the declaration, but the anxiety came right back once she realized she had no idea what he was up to.

“I’m just going to punish you.” And with that, he brought the flat side of the practice sword to Arya’s now exposed ass.

*CRACK*

Arya’s bubble ass jiggled as the sword made contact, she yelped and jumped as much as she could with the boot on her. 

“J-Joffrey, you can’t-“

*CRACK*

This time Arya let out a full sob. 

“Count” Joffrey said simply.

“W-What?”

*CRACK*

“Count” He repeated.

“F-Four” she sobbed out.

*CRACK*

“No. Start from one”

“O-one…”

Arya let her tears flow freely. Her body was trembling. Once again, she found herself in a scenario she never could’ve expected. Face being pushed into the dirty floor, while Joffrey flogged her backside. And just like the other times, Arya was disgusted in herself for finding pleasure in it. At the river bank when he forced his mouth onto hers and groped her freely, when Joffrey fucked her throat without a care in the world, and now, as spanked her bare ass, Arya felt the heat in the pit of her stomach grow and grow. Wetness dripped down her leg. At first she thought she pissed herself, but soon she realized it was her own slickness. This was making her wet.

*CRACK*

Arya sobbed and kept count. Her ass and her pussy were on fire. Arya couldn’t see, but no doubt her ass was as red as could be. Her sobs began turning into moans as Joffrey continued his relentless assault.

*CRACK*

Arya was reaching her limit. Her pussy was completely drenched. Even without direct contact, she felt herself dripping all over the place. It was impossible for Joffrey to have not noticed, but he said nothing as he brought the sword down again and again  
*CRACK*

“E-EEEEEEEEIIIIIGHT!” 

That last strike sent her over the edge. Arya had never orgasmed before. She, like every curious girl, had explored themselves, but Arya never brought herself to competition. And now here she was, cumming and squirting for a boy she hated, as he spanked her. Her hips shook and trembled as she rode out her orgasm. She moaned loudly into the floor, trying to stifle her voice. 

Once the waves of pleasure subsided, Arya rolled onto her back to catch her breath. Joffrey stared down at her, with a smug smile on her face. 

Wait.

She was on her back. Joffrey hadn’t had his boot on her head anymore. In fact, Joffrey removed his boot from her about halfway through, but Arya never moved from the position. SHE freely allowed Joffrey to spank and humiliate her. She was shaken from her thoughts with a simple statement.

“Good girl.”

Arya’s eyes widened and looked at Joffrey’s face, looking for deception. All he did was smile slightly.

“Good girl. You did so well. You took your punishment so well.” 

Arya was feeling light headed. She should’ve pulled her pants up and scrambled away, all she could do was sit there, entranced by his praise. She liked hearing it.

“Do you want to come again?”

Before she could stop herself, Arya nodded her head. God she felt pathetic.

“Use your words”

“Y-yes I want to…do that again”

“You want to come again. Say it” He demanded.

Steeling herself, she ground out “Yes I want to cum again.”

Joffrey roughly grabbed her by one of her arms and dragged her to her feet. She almost stumbled over her pants around her knees. He presses her back to a wall, tapping her there with his body. 

“Take your pants all the way off.” He orders.

Arya looks at him for a second, before bending over to drag her pants down. She undoes her boots and kicks them off, before fully removing her pants. Now completely bottomless, she stares at him, unsure what to do next.

“Spread your legs apart.”

Arya does so. She feels like she’s being trained, following Joffrey’s commands like she did Syrio’s. Gods, she didn’t want to ruin practice for herself by thinking about this. She’s pulled out of her thoughts, by the feeling of Joffrey’s thigh going between her legs.

“Oh!” She squeaks out, surprised. Joffrey is taller than Arya, so when he forces his thigh between her legs, she has to go onto her toes. Just like practice. She instinctively grabs onto his shoulders for support.

“Rub yourself against me. Like you did before.”

Just like everything, it all leads back to King’s Road. Arya had unconsciously rubbed herself against Joffrey during their heated kiss, but now she was very aware of what was happening, and the fact that she was being ordered by Joffrey to do so. And yet, she couldn’t deny him. 

Slowly, she began rocking her hips, rubbing her exposed pussy against Joffrey’s pants covered leg. The friction felt strange against the fabric of his pants, but she couldn’t;t deny that it felt amazing. She moaned softly, trying to make it so Joffrey didn’t hear her. 

He of course did, being only inches away from her face. He grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look up at him. She never stopped moving her hips as she stared at him.

“Look at you. Wild at first, but with a little discipline you can be tamed like any bitch.”

Arya barred her teeth at him as she ground her hips faster. A sizable wet spot appeared on Joffrey’s fine pants. They probably wouldn’t be wearable again, but at the moment he couldn’t care less. 

“Look at you go. Look at you. Rutting like a whore. MY whore”

Arya let a moan escape from her lips. Joffrey took the opportunity and captured her mouth with his. Arya moaned into the kiss as she continued to grind her cunt against Joffrey. She pulled back gasping.

“Oh gods…oh fuck…I’m going to…i’m going to-“ 

“Go ahead. Let go. Cum” Joffrey whispered.

That was all it took. Arya’s body stiffened, and then spasmed violently. She legs shook. As she came, her juices sprayed all over Joffrey’s pant leg. He definitely wouldn’t be able to wear those again.

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck” She mumbled as she road out her orgasm. She was clutching Joffrey’s shoulders for dear life. 

Joffrey to his credit stayed silent, so as to not ruin her ride. He watched her with hooded eyes as she spasmed against him.

After about a minute of convulsing, Arya’s body finally went limp. She was breathing heavily, a blush spread all across her face. Joffrey removed his leg from between hers. Arya hadn’t realized Joffrey’s leg was the only thing holding her up, and slides to her knees once he removes it. She looks up at him, her head still in a daze from her mind blowing orgasm. He smirks down at her.

“Wait 30 minutes after I leave before you do.” 

Arya just nods her head.

“Good girl.” And with that, he turns his hells and walks away. He spares her one last glance over his shoulder, before he disappears into the castle. 

Arya sits there on her knees, in a puddle of her own juices and looks up at the ceiling. 

She was being trained. Just not in the way she envisioned.


	4. Deep Down and Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Switching things up by trying to write this chapter more from Joffrey's POV. Hope y'all enjoy.

Joffrey was pissed. Pissed that he constantly had to hear the lectures and advice of his mother. Pissed that his brother and sister constantly annoyed him. Pissed that his father Rob, was constantly berating him to “be a man”. But mostly, and by a wide margin, he was pissed she had to look at those Northern yokels, the Starks.

Joffrey found the Starks to be incredibly dull. He rather they stayed up in their frigid castle in the frigid north, where he didn’t have to tolerate their presence. But alas that was not to be the case, as he was destined to marry one of them. Sansa. She gave him a headache every time she opened her mouth. So obsessed with her epic tales of chivalry and princes, like a stupid girl. Sure she was pretty, but so were whores, and you could at least pay a whore not to speak. 

Then there was the father, the ‘great’ Eddard Stark. His father had talked about the Stark patriarch constantly. About how he didn’t have more men like him in his council, about how he missed the days of their war. Joffrey thought they must have been buggering each other back then, because he didn’t see it. All he saw was a superstitious old man. However, there was one exception to his disdain of the Stark family. 

Arya.

Where to even begin. Ever since that day on the King’s Road, the girl had been on his mind. When he kissed her, it was meant to just toy with her and her sister, Joffrey did love to toy with people after all. He did not intend to become addicted to her. What made Arya different, what made her so unique, was she saw through him. What he was.

Sansa was still under some daft impression that he was some story book prince. The dumb cow. But he supposed that was partially his doing. Joffrey knew how to put on a face, put on a character. Something for the public to see. Nobody knew of what was in him. The darkness. The machinations of domination. Nobody but Arya. She saw him for what he was, and even then, she still responded to his touch. To his abuse. He had never met a girl like her. Girls were always so feeble. Fawning over the facade he put on, but then cowering away when he became…. well Joffrey. Terrified of Joffrey and his…interests. Arya however, well she seemed to be enamored by it, pulled in. All he had to throw at her, and he very well intended to throw more at her after that night, in the dimly lit hallways of the Red Keep, Joffrey flogged the Stark’s girl’s plump ass, and watched her cum all over herself. He watched as she ground herself on him like a common whore. HIS whore. The floodgates were open and he intended to dive in.

It had been a few days since he saw her after that night. A mixture of family duties and appearances, and the fact that she was no doubt trying to avoid him. However this was HIS castle. She couldn’t go anywhere without him knowing. Apparently she’s been exploring the dungeons. How…fitting.  
____________________________________________________________________________  
Just as he thought, she was there. Joffrey had excused himself most of the day, telling his mother he was feeling ill. Of course she wanted to fawn over him all day if that was the case, but he insisted that he be alone. Nevertheless, she had a servant stationed in his room. It only took a few threats of having limbs removed to have them scurrying away. He then made his way through the castle towards the dungeon, through the back halls, as not to be seen by anybody of importance. When he got to the dungeon entrance, he found himself hesitating a bit. He wasn’t scared, surely not, but who in their right mind would want to spend their time in a dungeon. Then again, Arya wasn’t in his right mind, he thought. Steeling himself, he descends the stairs, into the cold, dark cellar.

Joffrey could barely see anything in front of his face. Was his servant mistaken in seeing Arya down here? If she was, she’d have her eyes removed for wasting his time. Just as the violent thoughts crossed his mind, he heard humming. Going deeper into the cellar, he saw her. Arya. Casually apprising the skull of a dragon.  
Joffrey had always heard that his father stored the skulls of the Targaryen dragons in the dungeons, but like most things surrounding his father, he thought it was lies and exaggerations. But here he was, looking at the massive skull of the once great beasts. Joffrey would’ve liked a dragon. The prospect of burning his enemies alive greatly interested him, but that was neither here nor there. 

He watched her as she took in the details of the skull, rubbing her hands over the dried bones, in awe of its magnificence. Joffrey thought about how he’d done the same, rubbing his hands over her body, taking in every detail he could. Suddenly, Arya lets out a sigh.

“You can come out Joffrey, I know you’re there.” She says, looking over her shoulder at Joffrey’s direction.

Though she couldn’t see it in the dark, his eyebrows shot toward his hairline in shock, as he stepped out from the shadows. His Stark girl was just full of surprises. 

“How did you know i was-“

“You’re not as sneaky as you think” she answers, turning to face him. “Could hear you stumbling around in the dark.”

Joffrey just makes a noise of acknowledgement before invading Arya’s space. He traps her body between him, and the mighty skull. She looks up at him with unsure eyes, but doesn’t try to move away from him.

“You’re not running from me” He says, tone unreadable.

“I only run from things I’m afraid of, and I’m not afraid of you.” She says defiantly.

“Maybe you should be.”

“Well I’m not.”

“No. I suppose you aren’t.” and with that, he crashes his lips to hers,

This kiss is different than the one they shared before. It's as intense, teeth clacking, tongues swirling, but she’s LETTING him in. Joffrey can’t help but smile into her mouth. He’s breaking her down more and more every time they meet. He pulls away, leaving a string of saliva between their lips. She tries to follow him with her mouth, but he pins her shoulders to the skull. She lets out a whimper at his forcefulness.

“Take off your shirt.” Joffrey orders. 

Arya begins to grab the hem of her shirt, but then hesitates.

“Well? off with it.” He says impatiently.

“They-they’re small.”

“What?”

“I said they’re small.” Arya says red in the face.

Joffrey looks at her like she’s grown a second head.

“Oh for the sake of the gods, you fucking girls.” He says annoyed. He grabs the neckline of her shirt, tearing it, ripping it down the middle.

“Joffrey?!” Arya exclaims.

Joffrey snaked his hand in her the hole he made, tweaking the now exposed nipple of her right breast. Arya gasps out a moan.

“If I wanted a big titted whore, I would've gone to see your sister.” He says, give her nipple a tug for good measure.  
While Arya did not appreciate him insulting her sister (that was her job) she couldn’t help but take comfort in his validation of her.

“Besides-” Joffrey snakes his other hand down to her ass, and gives it a firm squeeze. “You more than make up for it in other areas”.

Arya squirmed at his ministrations. Joffrey prided himself on his ability to turn her to putty in his hands. He pulled the hand that was playing with her tits back, and gave it a downward slap. Arya yelped in a mix between pain pleasure. He switched to the other tit, and did the same thing. This time Arya unmistakably let out a moan. Encouraged, Joffrey began reigning down open handed blows to her breasts. Not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough to sting and turn her pale skin red. Arya was moaning and whimpering as he abused her small tits. To his surprise and glee, Arya did not try and run from his blows. Though she was whimpering, and tears were beginning to form in her eyes, she took his strikes with stride. 

After a few more slaps, Joffrey finally halted his onslaught. Arya was breathing heavily, tears escaping her eyes, breast red as her chest heaved. Joffrey was proud of his handiwork. He reached his hand up towards her breasts, and Arya flinched, expecting another blow, but instead, he gently rubbed the red skin, soothing it.

“Look at you. You did so good. I-I can be myself- my REAL self with you.” He said as he gently massaged her breasts. Joffrey allowed a surprising amount of vulnerability to enter his voice. “You deserve a reward.”

Using his free hand, he slid it to the front of Arya’s tight breeches. He rubbed over her mound, eliciting a needy moan from Arya.

“I’m going to use my hands on you. Would you like that?”

Arya didn’t trust herself to speak. She slowly nodded her head.

“Words. I already told you, use your words.” He said, slowly pulling his hand away.

Arya quickly grabs his forearm, trying to keep his hand in place.  
“Yes..”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I want you to use your hands.”

“Use my hands to do what exactly. You’re going to need to be more specific” He said with a cruel smirk.

Arya bared her teeth at him, but nonetheless relented

“I want you to use your hands on my cunt” She ground out.

Joffrey gave a toothy smile, before diving his hands in the front of her pants and under garments.

Arya threw her head back as Joffrey’s long fingers brushed over clit, covering her mound. Joffrey felt around until he found her entrance, then plunged his middle and ring finger into her waiting cunt. She was sopping wet from the assault her breast took.

“God you’re so tight. You might take my fingers off” He groaned into her ear.

Arya couldn’t respond with anything intelligent, so she opted to just moan lewdly. The sound of her moans and the wet slicking sound of Joffrey’s fingers pistoning in and out of her pussy echoed in the dank dungeon.

Joffrey’s fingering technique wasn’t particularly elegant or skilled, but he made up for it with tenacity. He drove his fingers in her with lighting speed, her wetness dripping all over his hand. Arya was rocking her hips, trying to met his fingers. She held onto her shirt for dear life as she felt her orgasm building.

She pulled him down into a kiss. Joffrey noted that this was the first kiss that she had initiated. Another landmark in their ‘relationship’. She moaned into his mouth as he continued to finger her wet cunt, hooking them upwards inside her.

“AHHH! There! Right there….please-“ She moaned.

Joffrey repeated the motion with his fingers, and Arya began to spasm and shake. He felt a flood of wetness against his hand, as she came and came. He kept pumping his fingers as she came down from her high. Joffrey looked down at her, with a pure predator glare in his eyes.

“Turn around, bend over, and put your hands on the skull.” He said in a low growl.

Arya obeyed in a haze, spinning and presenting her ass to Joffrey. Joffrey grabbed her breeches, and slowly peeled them down to her knees. He was happy to see her weeping cunt in its full glory again. Arya shivered at the sudden exposure. He then went to work at his own breeches, undoing their lace, and fishing his cock out. Despite not being touched, he was harder than he’d ever been watching Arya become undone. His bulbous head was purple, and leaking pre-cum. Arya looks over her shoulder, at the state of his member. Her eyes grow wide and Joffrey swears he hears her gulp. He grabs the base, and swipes it on Arya’s slit.

“J-Joffrey…” she moans

This was it. He was going to fuck her. make her his completely.

“Joffrey wait…”

He lines his cock up with her entrance, with full intentions of driving into her, balls deep.

“Joffrey, WAIT. I hear something. Someone’s coming” She whispers desperately.

At first, he thought she was making excuses, afraid to finally get fucked by him, but then he heard it too. 

Two pairs of footsteps, people in mid conversation. The voices and footsteps were getting closer. Arya tried to turn back around, but Joffrey grabbed her by the back of her neck, pinning her face to the skull. 

“What are you doing? We can’t get caught like-“

Joffrey gives her neck a squeeze, indicating for her to be quiet. She obeys and eyes him warily over her shoulder, still exposed. The footsteps have stopped and the voices became clearer. 

Lord Baelish and Varys. From where they were standing, the couldn’t see the two of them. It was too dark and the dragon skull obscured their line of site. 

Joffrey weighed his options. Here he was, cock hard as valyrian steel, Arya and her sweet cunt exposed to him. If he fucked her here and now, she couldn’t stop her, and doubt she’d even fight him after a while, but that would certainly expose what he’s been doing. The nature of their relationship. He really REALLY wanted to do this and nothing made Joffrey more mad than not getting what he wanted but he was not completely without sense. Having people know about them would….complicate things. Not that he cared what others thought, but no doubt His father would be livid -the hypocrite being the whore monger he was, and the Starks would raise the seven hells. While he’d one day like to tell Ned Stark about how his youngest daughter begged for his cock, that would have to wait. 

“Joffrey….”

Joffrey was pulled from his thoughts by Arya’s harsh whisper. He was still a mere push from filling her, and the two Councilmen were mere meters away.

Joffrey pulls his hips back, and repositions himself so that his cock is hovering above Arya’s round ass. Using his free hand, he begins stroking his cock.

“Are you mad, we’ll get caught.” She whispers desperately.  
“Not if you shut your damn mouth.” He bites back, not stopping his actions. 

Arya gives him a glare, before her eyes trail down to his cock, bouncing and wobbling as he strokes himself.

“Damn useless small council. I should have them thrown into the sea. Covered in pitch and set on fire. Drawn and…..”

As Joffrey mumbled threats of violence, his pace increased. Arya bit her lip as she watched him tug his cock. 

“Goddamn bastards. Bastards. Bastards.”

Joffrey’s stroking became a blur. His legs began to shake. He suddenly stiffened, and spurted cum all over Arya’s ass and lower back. She had to cover her mouth to suppress herself from gasping out loud at the feeling of Joffrey’s hot cum making contact with her skin. Just like when she sucked his cock, he came like a geyser. Someone his size shouldn’t be this virile, balls so full. Joffrey shot rope after rope onto Arya’s ass, giving it a thick glaze of white. After what felt like hours, his spurts began to die down, and dribble out of his tip. He slips forward, letting go of Arya’s neck to support himself. Despite being free, Arya doesn’t move. She stays bent over, hands flat on the skull ass jutting out.

The two hear Lord Baelish and Varys begin to make their way back the way they came. After a few seconds, it was clear that they were gone. Joffrey lets out a shuddering breath that he had been holding in. He tucks his cock away and looks at his work, marking what was his. Arya gives him a strange look. The two look at each other in silence.

“Tonight….meet me in my chambers.” Joffrey finally says after a minute.

Arya stays silent. Another stretch of silence. After a while, she gives a slow nod.

Satisfied, Joffrey turns to leave.

“Wait!” Arya calls out. Joffrey looks over her shoulder at her.

“How am I supposed to leave like this? Y-you tore my shirt, and covered me in your…stuff!” She huffs. Joffrey just gives her a smirk,

“You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Arya frowns at him but stays silent.

“See you tonight. Don’t keep me waiting.”

And with that, he walks out of the Keep’s dungeon, back into the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is gonna be fun :)
> 
> Follow me: https://twitter.com/IceT666
> 
> Email/commission requests: Arizonaicet@tutanota.com


	5. The Night - part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya meets Joffrey in his quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to split this scene into two separate chapters so that it's not overly long. I PROMISE I'll get the 2nd part out soon. Scout's honor

What was she doing here? 

Joffrey had told her to be at his rooms after their tryst in the dungeons. She of course didn’t have to do it. She could’ve spent all day trying to find an excuse, find something that would occupy her time. Yet she found that she couldn’t deny Joffrey, no matter what he said, no matter what he did to her. She thought herself crazy, that she was somehow entrapped in a spell cast by a dark wizard. That the Gods had it out for her. Only explanation.

“Girly, If you’re gonna stand out there all night, I don’t think the prince will be happy.” 

Arya was startled by the voice. The Hound. The only witness in their debauchery. She had been standing in the stairwell leading to the Prince’s room, just outside sight of the door. She must’ve been standing there in her thoughts longer than she intended. Sheepishly, she walked into The Hound’s line of sight. He looks at her with his signature bored expression.

He knocks on the door.

“What?” 

“The girl.”

Joffrey’s door swings upon. He’s in his night clothes. He smiles at Arya. A genuine full smile. He was happy to see her. Arya almost found it endearing. Joffrey looks around, as if looking for people who might ruin the moment. He grabs her by the wrist and pulls her into the room.

“Make sure no one comes up here. I don’t care what you say, just-“

“Aye, your grace. I understand.”

Nodding his head, he closes the door.

Joffrey’s room. 

It was about as gaudy as she expected a Lannister living space to be: overly furnished. Lots of crimson and gold. His bed was huge. King’s side. Made sense. She looked at Joffrey. He was still smiling, but he looked….well he looked nervous. Like someone who didn’t think they’d get this far. Neither of them did. 

“Do you want any wine?” He suddenly asks. “We have the best imported from Esos”

“I’m ok” She answers plainly. 

Joffrey poured himself a cup, and sat on his bed, eyes on her. She squirmed under his appraisal. She actually decided to change from their time in the dungeon. She was wearing one of her summer dresses. She didn’t understand why she felt the need to dress up for him.

“Joffrey. Why am I here?” She asks, eyeing him nervously. He gave her a strange looked.

“You know why. I’m going to take you. Make you mine” He explains as if talking to a child.

There it was, finally said in the open. He wanted her fully. What they’ve been doing, it was frowned upon greatly. Nations have fallen over misplaced kisses. But for him to actually take her maidenhood- while Arya did not put much stock in traditions, she knew this would be an ultimate taboo.

“We….can’t” She says, not sure of her voice.

Joffrey scowls at her and begins pacing the room

“I can do anything I want.” He snarls. “I’m the king-“

“You’re the prince. One who is betrothed to my SISTER.”

Joffrey throws his cup to the ground. Arya flinches at the suddenness. Joffrey strides up to her, grabbing her by the jaw.

“STOP mentioning her when you’re with me” He grits out. Arya wrenches her face away from his hand. She doesn’t let him bully her silent.

“Why? Because it’s not convenient? You’re meant to be marrying my perfect sister, and here you are throwing that all away, putting both our family names on the line….for what?” She asks. Honestly, that was the question wasn’t it. Arya couldn’t understand Joffrey, or how he thought. He was always so wild, so reactive. 

Joffrey opens his mouth as if to say something, but quickly closes it. Seemed he didn’t know himself. He studied her face.

“Why did you come here then” He asks.

It was Arya’s turn to be speechless. She refuses to meet his gaze. Joffrey stepped to one side, turning his back to her, breathing deeply, as if composing himself.

“Know what I think. You want this as much as me. More so even. Everything you let me do to you….well you’re just a dark girlie aren’t you Arya.”

Arya flushed red and continued to not look at him.

“-but that’s ok. I’m not judging you. I accept you, and you accept me.” Says Joffrey as he turns back around, eyes boring into her. He reaches out his hand, and gently begins to stroke Arya’s cheek. Unconsciously Arya leans into his too. His hand snakes into her hair, and he continues to gently caress her.

“We make each other whole. Every King needs a Queen”

“You have a queen.”

“No. Your sister is just a girl. A name on a paper. Livestock that was traded for me. I’m not livestock. I am Joffrey Baratheon.” 

As he speaks, Joffrey tightens his fist in Arya’s hair, getting a handful at the base her ponytail. He gave it a sudden tug,, tilting Arya’s head back. A moan escaped her lips at the sensation. Finally she looked at him. He was staring at her with intensity, and something else. Hope? Hope that she wouldn’t reject him. Hope that she wouldn’t run away. 

After what felt like ages, she finally spoke.

“Just….be gentle.” She says in a voice barely above a whisper. Joffrey just smiled at her.

“No.”

Joffrey drags her by the hair, leading to his bed. Arya stumbles awkwardly along, as she’s led like a lame dog. When they get close, he uses one hand to grab her shoulder, and toss her onto the mattress. She lands with an ‘oof’. Joffrey straddles his back. He begins attempting to undo the bindings of her dress. He fumbles with the knots, but is unable to undo them. Arya almost found it adorable. 

“Oh to hells with this” He growls as he grabs the fabric of each shoulder, and pulls.

*RIPPPPP*

Joffrey rips her dress down the middle

“That’s the second piece of clothing you ripped.” Arya says. Joffrey responds by flipping her to her back, and bringing his head to her breast through the entrance he’s created. He closes his mouth around her right nipple, sucking, and rolling his tongue over it, while he tweaks her left with his hand. Arya moans and arches into him, trying to get as much contact as possible. Joffrey releases her from his mouth, and slides back to the foot of the bed. He grabs the bottom of her dress and begins to slide it down. Arya lifts her hips to aid him, allowing it to slide down her body. Joffrey tosses it to the side, while she slides down her undergarments and kicks off her slippers. He stands to appraise Arya, eyes darting up and down her body.

Arya can’t help but cover her breast with her hands and clench her legs together. She didn’t know why she still found herself shy after everything.

“Move your hands, and spread your legs. I want to see you” He orders, tone leaving room for no argument.

After a second of hesitation, she obeys, giving Joffrey an unblocked view.

“Fuck-“ He breathes out. He crawls back on the bed, covering her body with his. He crashed his lips to her. His hands glide all over her skin, grabbing whatever he can. He’s not particularly gentle or skilled, but he wouldn’t be Joffrey if he was. He lets one of his hands slither down her stomach. He moves it lower, finger glancing over her clit. Arya squeals, and bucks her hips.

“Stay still” He orders. He pins her hips to the mattress with one hand and rubs over her folds with the other. 

He takes two fingers and pushes into her. She clenches around him, moaning.

“You’re so fucking tight” He breathes out. “Gotta get you ready, or I’ll never fit.”

He pistons her fingers in and out of her. She’s already wet, her juices dripping down her inner thighs and all over Joffrey’s hands.

“J-Joffrey…fuck, oh gods-“ Arya moans and squeals. She twitches and squirms, but Joffrey is keeping her anchored to the bed.

“That’s it. Get that cunt nice and wet for me.” He says. He adds a third finger, stretching out Arya’s passage. It’s a bit uncomfortable, but the pleasure outweighs it. He speeds up his pace, driving his fingers into her, feeling her walls. Arya is seeing stars as the pleasure in her belly begins to boil over. He cunt squeezes around his fingers and she lets out a high pitch moan as he finger fucks her to completions. Her whole body spasms against the mattress. She bucks her hips, finally lifting them from his grasp. Joffrey pulls his hand away, and an arc of her juices squirts from her pussy, all over the sheets. Joffrey seems fascinated by his accomplishment. After bucking and spasming for about half a minute, her orgasm finally passes. She’s breathing heavily and looks up at Joffrey. He has a shit eating grin on his face, self satisfied.   
He leans over, and wipes his hand against her cheek, smearing her juices on her face. He pushes two fingers into her mouth. She sucks on instinct, cleaning the rest of herself off of his hand. 

“Now you need to get me ready”. He says as he throws one leg over her torso, straddling her chest. He lowers his night pants past his hips, allowing his cock to fall free. It bounces off Arya’s nose with a whap. 

She inhales deeply, getting a whiff of his natural musk. Memories of King’s Road filled her mind. She found herself missing the smell of his manhood. She gave the underside of his cock a long lick, from base to tip, eliciting a groan from the prince. He pushes his tip between her lips, and begins to rock his hips. The position greatly limited Arya’s movement, so settled for letting him do all the work and fuck her mouth, sucking and licking as he pushed in and out. Joffrey took things slower than the night at the inn, giving slow, shallow thrusts into her mouth. He wasn't seeking to cum, but to get him prepared for the main course. Arya obviously was thinking differently, as she was sucking, massaging, and worshiping his cock with her tongue in ways that were driving Joffrey madder than he already was. After one particularly strong suck from her, Joffrey had to pusher her forehead and pull out of her mouth, lest he spilled down her throat.

“Fuck, what are you doing to me Arya” Joffrey breathes out. Arya actually smiled at her apparent effect on him.

Joffrey slides down Arya’s body, positioning himself between her legs. He lets his cock rest on her stomach, letting her feel the weight of him. Arya looked at him nervously. Even with the prep, he was still just so big, and so small. 

“Spread your legs, as wide as they’ll go” Joffrey orders. He was smiling, almost giddy.

Arya looked away and let her legs fall open. Her training had greatly increased her flexibility, so she was able to spread her thighs flat to the mattress, giving Joffrey unfettered access to her. 

Adjusting his hips, he lines up his bulbous head with her entrance. He gives her clit a few swipes with it, making Arya squirm. He aligns himself, and pushes in, HARD.To the hilt.

It hurt.

There is no gentleness. One snap of his hips, and Arya has Joffrey’s full 9 inches buried in her cunt. She lets out a scream. Her walls try to accommodate his sheer size. She knew it was hurt. She’s heard stories and had the lessons, but Joffrey always took things to another level. She just felt so FULL, like someone had shoved an arm into her. He was deep in her, deeper than she even knew she went.  
She squirms under him, as screwed closed. She can hear him breathing heavily. But then….he breathing goes quiet- very quiet. And he’s not moving. 

Arya, cracks her eyes open, and sees Joffrey staring at her with a grimace on his face. Not with his usual intensity, but hatred. He reels back, pulling completely out of her. He looks between her legs, and then between her, and his frown deepens.

“Joffrey what-“

Before Arya can finish her sentence, Joffrey slaps her across the face. Hard. Hard enough to bring stars to Arya’s eyes.

“Who….” He asks, tone flat and cold. Arya, still trying to process the slap, doesn’t comprehend what he’s saying.

“Joff-“

She’s interrupted again, this time by Joffrey’s hands going to her neck. Arya gasps as her airway is cut off. Her hands got to his wrist, trying to pry them off. She kicks impotently trying to shake him from atop her, but she it’s fruitless. Her panicked eyes go to his face, trying to understand WHY.

“Who had you before me you WHORE!” Joffrey growls. Arya tries to say something, but can only gargle a response. 

“You think I’m an idiot. Some FOOL! You maidenhood is GONE. There was no blood! Was it that fucking butcher’s boy? I’ll find him and his family. I’ll have them flayed! Burned alive! I’ll-“

Joffrey squeezes tighter as he rambles. Arya’s mind is going blank, eyes rolling into her head. Her kicks become weaker and weaker. Tears run down her red face. She feels her muscles giving out, going limp, as her vision blurs and then darkens.

SLAP

Another slap connects with Arya’s face, bringing her back to a semblance of consciousness. Her eyes shoot open, and she looks around, remembering where she is. Joffrey grabs a fistful of her hair and yanks it up to look at him, hard enough to tear it from the root if he wanted.

“WHO, Arya?” He demands words deadly.

“H-h-h” Arya stammers

“What?” Joffrey growls, yanking her hair harder.

“H-horseback riding” She croaks painfully.

Joffrey just stares at her, confused and angry. Horseback riding? He wasn’t understanding. What did that have to do with- Oh. His eyes go wide, and he lets go over her hair, letting it drop against the bed.

It wasn’t unheard of that women would have their maidenhood broken while riding horses. The galloping and uneven roads would sometimes cause their hymens to break. And someone like Arya, who rode horses for fun, and at higher speeds than your average princess- 

Joffrey fucked up. 

He gets off of her, giving her some space. Immediately Arya pulls her legs to her chest, pressing her face into them. She was sniffling, trying to hold back tears. Joffrey reaches out his hand, as if to try and comfort her, but he flinches away from him.

“Arya…I…I’m-”

An apology. Joffrey had never apologized for anything in his life, least not that he meant. He likely wasn’t even capable of it.

Arya peeks over knees, warily watching him with red eyes. He has the decency to look ashamed.  
“Roll onto your front Arya.” He says quietly. Arya just glares at him, unmoving. “PLEASE, Arya. I will make you feel good, I promise.”

Arya should walk away. Hell she should run away. Joffrey was a psycho, subject to fits of rage. He nearly killed her out of misplaced jealousy, that he would have no right to to begin with. She should kick him away from her, run to her father and come clean, repent. Even if Joffrey lied (which he would) she would be clean in spirit, and free of him. That would be the rational and right thing to do.

Too bad she wasn’t rational or right. If she was, her cunt wouldn’t be wetter than it ever was. If she was, she wouldn’t have came when he was choking the life out of her (she was relived that he didn’t notice). And if she was, she wouldn’t have found herself obeying, rolling onto her hands and knees, curious about what he had in store for her next.


	6. The Night - part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Conclusion to The Night

Arya rolls to her front, on her hands and knees, presenting her ass to Joffrey. Despite the arousing sight of her bubble butt and wide hips, Joffrey wanted her like this so he wouldn’t have to look at his handiwork. His slaps left a clear read mark on her face, and he figured her neck would already be bruising blue. Honestly he hadn’t meant to fly into a rampage, but the thought of someone having her first just…..Joffrey didn’t want to consider the implication of these feelings. He was possessive of his things, that was all. Reflecting on any deeper feelings is what girls do.

Joffrey rubbed his hand on Arya’s pale ass. She still flinched to his touch. Guess he couldn’t blame her at the moment. He positions himself directly behind her, aligning his cock head with her entrance. He pushes is. Slowly this time. He was showing a rare instance of self restraint by not pushing in balls deep. Maybe this was his way of apologizing, since he knew no other.

Arya groaned as he slowly pushed into her inch by inch. He felt her walls slowly take him in. She tried wiggling her hips, but Joffrey’s grip on them kept her still. Eventually, He pushed himself all the way in, his pelvis connecting with her ass. He stayed like that for a while, listening to her whimpers, feeling her clench and tighten around him.

“I’m going to move now.” He finally says. It wasn’t a request. It was a warning. He began pumping his hips, short, controlled thrusts. Joffrey had NEVER shown this amount of self-control before. 

“J-Joffrey….please…oh fuck” Moaned Arya. She sounded delirious. Joffrey leaned down pressing his chest to her back so that his head could be right next to her ear.

“What do you need Arya. Tell me what you need” He breathes into her ear. She grinds her hips back, trying to feel more of him, but he holds her fast. He’s stopped pumping at this point, just settling for feeling her around him.

“h-harder” She mumbles, her face going red.

“What? You have to speak up”. He heard her perfectly fine. How his cock twitched when he heard her was indication of that. He just wanted her to say it again. To be needy.

Arya actually GROWLED in frustration. Just like a wolf.

“Joffrey. FUCK me harder.” She said, voice suddenly clear as day. “If you want to make love to a maiden, go find my sister. Fuck me!

That was all he needed. After his outburst, he was concerned about hurting her again, but now, he had permission (not that he needed it as prince.) Joffrey used his position to swipe Arya’s arms from under her, causing her to fall flat onto her stomach, the weight of him pinning her down. He gave a sharp, hard, thrust with his hips, causing Arya to snap her head up in surprise. He used this to snake his hand under her jaw, holding her head in an upright position. He began to rock his hips, slow at first, but quickly picking up speed. Each thrust eliciting a small moan from Arya. 

His thrusts weren’t particularly skilled, and his rhythm was off at times, but he was now properly FUCKING her. His thrusts were fast and heavy, slapping loudly against her plump ass, jerking her body forward. It was like he was trying to fuck her through the mattress. 

Arya’s cunt was dripping and soaking him as he fucked her. She was still ultra tight due to his size, but she was taking him with stride. The pain and pleasure was making her mind go blank, as she moaned lewdly at his assault.

“You’re such a good girl, taking me so well” He moaned into her ear, never ceasing his thrusts. An orgasm rocked through her body at his words. She did love when he called her a “good girl”. 

Joffrey decided it was time to change position. He rolled them onto their side, wrapping her bottom leg between his, while hooking his arm under her top leg, spreading her wide. He resumed his frantic thrust, this time able to reach into her deeper than before, head of his cock kissing her womb. Arya’s eyes rolled into the back of her head at the sensation. She took one hand and began to rub her clit, but Joffrey stops her.

“No!” He gasps into her ear. “Hands down”

Arya whimpers but obeys. 

“Hold yourself open” He commands. Arya grabs the the leg he was holding, hooking her arm under her knee, keeping herself spread open as he continued to point into her. Joffrey takes his now free hand and begins rubbing her clit in fast circles.

“Only I make you cum. Only me!” Joffrey barks into her ear as he fucks her senseless. Arya is beyond words at this point, all she can do is gurgle as her body is utterly used.

Using free arm, he loops his arm under Arya’s chin, essentially putting her in a headlock. He flexes his arm, choking her once again, cutting off the blood going to her head. Instinctually Arya tries to escape, but she’s held firm. 

“Relax Arya. I’m here. You’re safe.” He whispers into her ear. She didn’t know why, but she believed him. Maybe it was her brain working at half capacity. She stopped struggling, allowing Joffrey to choke her as he fucked her hard and fast. She couldn’t deny that her cunt was clenching and dripping at the feeling. As her brain went blank, all she could focus on and feel was what Joffrey was doing to her body. No thoughts, no worries, just pleasure and sensation. Her tongue lolled out of her open mouth as another powerful orgasm came upon her. Her body shook and spasmed as Joffrey didn’t relent. He continued fucking deep into her, stroking her clit, and choking the life out of her as she came and came. It wasn’t until her body fell limp, that Joffrey ceased. letting her go, and pulling completely out of her. Arya fell sprawled against the mattress. 

“Still with me Arya?” He asks. Arya just whimpers in response. He gave her ass a hearty slap, bringing her back to attention.

“Roll onto your back. Bring your legs up” He orders. Arya was absolutely exhausted, but complied nonetheless, albeit slowly. She tried to hold her legs up, but was too weak to do so. Joffrey decided to aide her: Grabbing hold of her calves, he pushes them up and back, until they’re pinned to either side of Arya’s head. Her lessons were doing her wonders.

Joffrey placed himself above her exposed cunt, and drives downward, allowing his weight and gravity to drive his cock into her. Arya let out a howl of pleasure as his cock was buried into her. She turns her head and closes her eyes.

“No Arya. Eyes open. Eyes on me” He says driving into her. Her eyes snapped open, locking onto his. He was staring at her with buh intensity as he fucked her, his blue eyes boring into her grey. This was moment was more intimate than they’ve ever been. Almost as if they were lovers rather than enemies who both happen to be out of their minds. Perish the thought.

Joffrey leaned down and kissed Arya hard. She threw her arms around his neck as their mouths battled for dominance. His hips became a blur, crashing down into Arya like he would die if he slowed down. All she could do was moan into his mouth and hang on for dear life. She felt her 5th orgasm of the night coming on. Her legs shook and trembled pinned next to her head. She was going to explode. Joffrey was close himself. He felt his balls twitch and ache, begging for release.

He gave a final downward thrust, bottoming out deep in Arya, into her womb. His cock expanded, and began pumping rope after rope of cum into Arya. The sensation brought Arya over the edge with him; he cunt clenching around him, milking him as he came. He held her hips tight to hers, to ensure not one drop escaped as he filled her to the brim. He gave a few short pump of his hips to ensure his balls were empty, before slumping down onto of her. Arya let her legs fall back down, cradling him as he laid there with her.  
They laid in silence for a while, listening to each other breath and heartbeats. It was nice. Domestic. But they both knew, it couldn’t last.

“You came in me” Arya finally says. It wasn’t a question, nor did it sound particularly angry or concerned. A simple fact. Joffrey just nods against her chest.

“I’ll…have a servant bring you a special tea during your breakfast. Lily of the Red.”.

Lily of the Red. A plant native to Westeros. Bitter taste when mixed with hot water, and caused slight cramps, but one of the few options women had if they wanted to no be with child after coupling.

She nods her head and they return to silence.

“I have to go.” She said quietly. Joffrey doesn’t respond.

“Joffrey. I have to go.”

“I heard you” He answers, like a child being told he had to go to bed.

“That means you have to get off of me.”

Joffrey rolls of Arya. Allowing her to sit up, She was exhausted, and her body ached all over. She nearly fell when she stood from her bed.

“There’s some water and a cloth on the stand to make yourself presentable. Also take some clothes so you’re not running around like you just got ravished.” He said. 

“But I did just get ravished” She says cheekily as she moves to clean herself. Joffrey snorts at this. He watched her as she rubbed the damp towel over herself, cleaning her skin and between her legs. He knew then and there, he wouldn’t be letting her go, no matter what. She was his and only his. 

Arya pulled on one of Joffrey’s shirts and a pair of his trousers. They were much to big for her, but they’d make do until she could get back to her quarters. She makes her way to the door.

“I’ll be seeing you” Joffrey says suddenly. Arya stops right before the door. She looks over her shoulder.

“Yes. I suppose you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Hope you all liked the chapter. This is the de facto end of the first arc of this story. I'm going to be slowing down updates of this one here because 
> 
> 1.I have have commissions to do (which you can request at arizonaicet@tutanota .com)
> 
> 2\. I started a PATREON. All my work will be uploaded they're before it's public release, as well as voting powers, the ability to request stories and chapters, and monthly story rewards!
> 
> Linke here: https://www.patreon.com/ArizonaIceT


	7. Growth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Joffrey talk in a garden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another brief chapter to hold you all over. Has some interesting developments that I think y'all will like.
> 
> Also starting another major GoT/ASoIaF fiction soon. Stay tuned

Joffrey should’ve been happy. He should’ve been ecstatic. The girl he’s been lusting for these past weeks, was finally his, in a way. He took her maidenhood, the most sacred thing to noble born women. She had given it to him, and enjoyed every second of what he gave her.

Arya.

His Arya.

He should’ve been happy. But like most things in his life, he was once again disappointed. Stupid political strife that he cared nothing about. Apparently the Stark matriarch took his uncle Tyrion prisoner. He couldn’t lie, he didn’t much care for the imp. He could care less what happened to him, but apparently it caused a big ruckus amongst the family. So much so that his uncle Jamie, one he did somewhat like, ended up dueling and injuring Ned Stark and killing one of his bannermen. Once again, he couldn’t careless, or at least he wouldn’t have, if it didn’t take all of Arya’s attention. She was too sentimental he thought. Her father only sustained a leg wound, and bannermen could be replaced easily.

He didn’t want to push the issue however, especially after he made such strides with her. He’d let her have her time, then he’d go to her. But it was the actions of his father that REALLY but him in a foul state. Im King Robert Baratheon’s infinite wisdom, he saw fit to make the injured Ned Stark the sitting king, while he went on his idiotic boar hunt. There should be a Lannister on the throne if no one else, not a Stark. But once again, he bit his tongue, and decided to bide his time. 

It was several days later when he saw her next. She was sitting alone in one of the many gardens of the Keep. She was there, enjoying the nature amongst the stone and cobble. He made his way to her, making sure no one knew where he was. When she saw him, she made to leave.

“Arya” He says firmly, stopping her in her tracks. She throws him a glare, but sits back down. He sits down next to her.

“I don’t want to see you Joffrey” she says not looking at him. He snorts at her directness.

“You’ve made that abundantly clear. But I want to see you, and I get what I want.” 

He moves to put his hand on her thigh, but she stands up quickly and faces him, her eyes flashing.

“Do you think this is some joke” She says angrily. “Your uncle hurt my father!”

“It was just a flesh wound. He’s fought in wars. He’ll be fine.” He says nonchalantly. This only seems to inflame Arya’s ire.

“And they KILLED Jory.”

“Guards can be replac-“

“He wasn’t just a guard! Jory was there since I was born! He’s family!”

Arya looked as if she wanted to throttle Joffrey. Her sudden excitement caught him by off guard. Once again, Joffrey found himself misreading Arya, misreading her feelings. And once again, she made to leave, but Joffrey grabbed her by the wrist, holding her firm, but not pulling her.

“Let me go Joffrey.” She demands, trying to pull away. He just holds her tight.  
“Arya…”

“I said Let. Me. Go.”

“Arya….please.”

His gentle tone made her halt. Suddenly she’s pulled down, falling into his lap. He wraps his arms around her waist, shifting her that her legs are resting over his right thigh. She wasn’t happy about the sudden move, but allowed herself to be held.

“It’s….unfortunate what happened between my uncle and your father. I love my uncle, but he shouldn’t have acted in the way he did.” He relents

“Yeah, no shit.” Arya scoffs. 

“I did not know your bannerman Jory. I’m sure he was a fine soldier.” He says. In his own way Joffrey actually meant this. Going up against his uncle Jamie in single combat is suicide. While incredibly stupid, he obviously a man dedicate to his Lord, as soldiers SHOULD be.

“Yes, he was, and he was killed by YOUR family.”

“I am not my family Arya.”

“You’re a Lannister.”

“Technically I’m a Baratheon. And you’re a Stark. Do I blame you for the decisions your father makes, your mother taking my uncle Tyrion”

“You don’t even like Tyrion.”

Joffrey almost laughed at that. She had him there.  
“-or for the annoyance your sister is?” He asks. Arya lets out a slight laugh at the mention of her sister, and relaxes into his embrace.

“I don’t care for the politics that happen. It has nothing to do with me. It has nothing to do with you.” He says, stroking small circles into her back. He had to admit, while he wanted her to be back in a good humor so he could get back to fucking her, he did enjoy these small moments. Gods, he was going soft, he thought.

“Yeah, well you didn’t lose anyone did you?” My dad’s hurt, and Jory’s gone, and nothing can change that.” She says in a sad tone. Joffrey looked at her, eyes unreadable, and then gave a slight smile.

“Here Arya, sit down” He says, pushing her off her lap and standing. She gave him a confused look. He just gestured to the bench. Slowly, Arya took a seat.

“Take off your pants” He says. smilie spreading across his face.

“Joffrey-“ She starts, tone chastising. He just holds up a hand.

“Just do it Arya. I promise you’ll love it.” He explains. Last time he made her a promise, he made her cum 3 times in a row. She eyed him suspiciously, then relented. She kicked off her shoes, and slid her her pants and undergarments down her leg. She squeezed her legs together, not loving being this exposed in public. Joffrey seemed to make a habit of doing so.

Joffrey’s next move truly surprised her however. He dropped down to his knees in front of her, placing his hands on his knees.

“Joffrey, what are you-“ She began. Joffrey just shushed her, and pushed her knees apart. She didn’t resist, allowing herself to be spread open in front of of him. She looked down at him, her face slightly pink. He gives her a smirk, before leaning down between her legs.

She feels his breath on her cunt, making her shiver. Gingerly he gives her a long lick, starting at the base of her pussy, going all the way up to her clit. Arya jumped at the sudden contact of his tongue, and let put a breathy gasp. She looked down at him in both confusion and lust. He mulled on her taste. Strange, but not unpleasant, he decided. He dove back in, experimentally lapping at her folds. From the way Arya was shivering and breathing, he could tell he was doing a good enough job, but then again, he always seemed to know what would make her come undone, like an instinct. He licked and sucked her cunt, as her juices flowed from her, wetting his mouth. She had to cover her own mouth to keep from moaning out loud; it’d be a shame if this moment were to be ruined by some servant being drawn to her cries.

Joffrey ran his tongue to the top of her mound, giving her nub a flick with his tongue. Arya’s hips jerked up from the bench, but Joffrey caught her by the thighs and pushed them back down, pinning them to the stone. He gave her clit another lick, before engulfing it entirely with his mouth.

This time, Arya couldn’t suppress the scream she let out. Her hands went to his hair, gripping it hard enough to hurt, as she moaned lewdly. She tried to hump into his face, to get more of of the feeling he was giving. Joffrey just kept licking and sucking on her cunt, focused on his goal. 

Arya let out a scream as she came, legs shaking, hips twitching. Joffrey wasn’t quite ready for the flood of juices that splashed into his mouth and onto his face, but he took it with stride. Arya was nearly pulling his golden locks from their roots with how hard she was gripping his hair. She came down from her orgasm, breathing heavily; she finally loosened her grip on Joffrey’s hair, allowing him to pull back and stand up. His mouth and chin were glistening with her wetness. He ran his tongue over his lips, tasting it, before wiping his face with his sleeve.

“S….sorry” Arya pants. 

“It’s fine. Stand up” Joffrey says simply. Arya stands on wobbly legs, and Joffrey takes her position on the stone bench. He lifts his hips, to slide his breeches down just enough for his erect manhood to pop out, and stand tall.

“Ride me” He commands. Arya eyes his cock, and then looks around, making sure no one was around. She faces him and straddles his waist, lining up his cock with her entrance. Slowly she sank down onto him. She shuddered at the feeling. Despite him previously fucking her throughly, she still wasn’t completely used to the size of him. She stretched and clenched around him as she lid down his length. When she reached the base, she sat there, feeling him inside of her.

He gave her ass a slap, making her clench around him.

“I said ride me” He reprimands. 

Slowly she begins to rocks her hips, hands on his shoulders for support. She feels his hard rod scraping her walls, molding it to him. Joffrey rested his hands on her hips, letting her do all the work.

“Gods, I feel so FULL.” She moans. She knew just how to appeal to Joffrey’s ego. He ran his hands down her hips, snaking them back to her ass. He squeezed and kneaded her globes as she continued to fuck herself on him.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. Her forwardness surprised him, but was not discouraged. He kissed her back fiercely. 

Arya decided it was time to change tactics, and instead of grinding her hips, she began to bounce herself on his cock. She’d pull herself up halfway, before slamming back down to the base. Joffrey met her thrusts, doubling the impact and pleasure. Luckily the Red Keep drowned out most sounds, or the slapping noises might’ve drawn attention.  
“Joffrey…..Joffrey….” She moaned as she bounced on him. He loved it when she moaned his name. He loved how she clawed at his hair, skin, anything to pull him closer to her. He loved how her hot cunt felt around him. 

Joffrey grabbed Arya hips once more, and began to rapidly fuck upward into her. She squealed and moaned at his pace, as he fucked into her cervix.

“I’m going to come Arya. I’m going to fucking-“ The words died in his mouth as he thrust upward one final time, cumming deep within her. He held her in place as making sure every drop went into her womb. Arya just shuttered and mewled as her own orgasm washed over her. 

They both came down from their high, breathing hard. They sat there, catching their breath for a bit.

“You came in me again.” she says in a strange voice.

“Yes. I suppose I did” He answers simply. “I’ll have my servant discretely bring you Lily of the red again.”

Truthfully, he didn’t want to. Joffrey wanted her in always, including her womb. He wanted her bred, filled with his seed, filled with his name. But he didn’t voice this. He had her, and he didn’t want to risk anything to scare her away.

Arya looked at him strangely, as if she was processing something in her head. She opened her mouth, then closed it. She did it again, obviously at a loss for some words. Finally, she spoke.

“I…..Lily of the Red gives me awful cramps.” She says looking away. Joffrey just gives her a confused look. “You don’t need to bother having it brought to me” She says quietly, quiet as a mouse.

Joffrey stares at her. 

Then it dawned on him.

Dawned on him what she was saying. What she was giving him. 

He pulled her into another deep kiss. Gentle and passionate. 

“You’re mine Arya” He growls into her mouth. She doesn’t try to respond, just allows him to devour her.

After awhile, they pulled their mouths away from each other. 

“I’m still mad about my father and Jory.” She says, head leaning against his chest. He looks down at her, and gives a simple smile.

“I’ll make it up to you. I’ll always make it up to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed. 
> 
> My main email is acting up, so if you email me about comms or anything email both my main(arizonaicet@tutanota.com) and my back-up (bumcast101@gmail.com), just to be safe.
> 
> Also follow me on twitter!  
> https://twitter.com/icet666


	8. The Future for Kings & Bastards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The future of Westeros starts now.

Arya couldn’t explain why she said what she said to Joffrey. She couldn’t explain her thought process. Her mother always did say she was too impulsive. Maybe she was onto something.

She essentially gave him permission to knock her up.

Arya always prided herself on her independence. That she’d fight tooth and nail against the prospect of being married off to some lord she didn’t know. That she’d be her own woman of her own choices. 

Joffrey wasn’t some lord she was married of to though, was he. Technically he was to be her brother in law. They had no forced promises to each other. He chose her, and even if she couldn’t yet bring herself to say it, she chose him. She always went back to him, let him use her body as he saw fit. She couldn’t deny him. She didn’t want to deny him.

But Arya found herself not minding the thought of having Joffrey’s child. The thought of a blonde haired, silver eyed baby made her heart swell. Gods, she sounded like her sister.

Joffrey made no effort to hide his giddiness at the prospect however. The floodgates were open, and he fully intended to go right through them. He took her five times in the next two days. Twice while she was sword training, twice in his quarters, and one time, he actually snuck into her room and fucked her right before her breakfast. It was as if her words that day made him insatiable, and filled his balls to the brim.

Even more, the things he would say. Arya felt her womanhood tremble at the memory.

“I’m going to fill your womb with my seed. You’re going to get every last drop” He said as he fucked her with her legs over his shoulders.

“That’s right, take my cum. take all of me.” He moaned into her ear as he fucked her against a corridor wall.

“That’s it. Lift that ass more, so i can BREED you.” He roared as he railed into her from behind.

Joffrey made his intentions clear as day. He wanted her belly full of his children.

But what was the end goal. He was still betrothed to her sister. A promise made by the king and her father. The scandal that would come if she suddenly appeared pregnant, evermore when she should still have her maidenhood. 

Luckily for her, she didn’t have to worry about being with child for the next few weeks. She was on her safe days. She doubted Joffrey knew how a women’s natural cycles worked, or would even care if he did.

But that was something that drew her to him in the first place. He was like a nerve; he reacted. Pushed and pulled by stimuli. He did not worry about consequences. He just did what he felt. 

And he felt for her.

A knock at her door brought her out of her thoughts. She went and opened it and was greeted with Joffrey standing on the other side of the door with a large grin on his face. Arya let out a sigh, and stepped aside, letting him in.  
______________________________________________________________________________  
Joffrey gingerly buttoned up his shirt, with a song in his heart. This was the happiest he’d been since he was a boy. He looked over his shoulder at his handiwork: Arya laid bare naked, face down and disheveled on her bed, legs spreads as cum leaked from her cunt.

“Well I think I’ll be headed out now” Says Joffrey. Arya just groans into her her bedding. 

Joffrey turns and places a kiss to the top of her head, along with a slap to her bubbly ass for good measure, which causes Arya to moan/mewl.

“I’ll see you later tonight” He says as he walks towards the door. Arya was in no condition to verbally respond, and just grunted in what he had to assume was acknowledgement. Satisfied, he leaves her quarters, headed back to his own. He nearly had skip in his step as he walked through the palace. 

Arya

His Arya.

He didn’t think anything could bring him down at that moment.

“Your grace!” came a voice behind him.

He spoke too soon. Sighing, he turned around, and saw a disheveled looking servant staring at him.

“What is it? Can’t you see that I’m busy” He growls. Admittedly he had just been walking, but he was pulled out the very pleasant thoughts he was having The servant began stammering, and Joffrey was losing patience. “Out with it!”

The servants eyes go wide as she speaks.

“Your father-“  
______________________________________________________________________________  
His father was dying.

The drunken, vulgar, whore mongering fool was dying.

Gored through the side by an oversized pig. Boar hunting. Such a stupid thing. His father never took him on his boar hunting trips. told him ‘It was for men, and you’re no man yet.’

Guess this is what happens to men. 

His mother was already there when he arrived. He walked in and the smell burned his nose. He imagined that’s what dying smelled like.

His father, the man that was always larger than life to him, was on his back, side split open and oozing, skin turning yellow, as he struggled to breathe. 

His mother looked upset, LOOKED. She thought he never noticed, but he knew that she had no love for his father. His vulgarity, drunkenness, and mistresses turned their relationship sour. No one else could see through her face, but he knew that there wasn’t a shred of sympathy for him.

Joffrey himself wasn’t sure how he felt about his father. He didn’t know if he loved him. He was a hard man, ever critical of how Joffrey was nothing like him, but he was the only father he’d ever know. 

His father saw him, eyes sad. He beckoned him over to his bed. Slowly, Joffrey walked toward him, and sat on the edge. Joffrey reached out his hand to comfort him. Robert flinched at his touch, almost as if not expecting the intimacy. 

“I should have spent more time with.” He says weakly. “Shown you how to be a man.”

Joffrey grimaced at his words.

“I was never meant to be a father”

Joffrey could say nothing at that. He just stared at the dying man.

Ned Stark entered the room, and immediately King Roberts eyes went to him.

Always to Ned.

“Go on. You don’t want to see what comes next” His father groans out.

Joffrey stands, giving his father one last glance, before leaving the room.

His father was dying. 

And he would be king.

Joffrey couldn’t help the slight smile that spread across his face at the idea.  
______________________________________________________________________________

Arya eventually found the energy to clean herself up and get dressed after her and Joffrey’s latest coupling. 

Joffrey had the good grace to only make the session brief. He threw her on the bed, pushed her face into the mattress, fucked her savagely, and filled her womb with his seed, all within a quarter hour. She had to have a talk with him, she was starting to chafe.

Arya pulled her clothes on, and crept out of her room. She figured she should check on her father, since Joffrey, and her sword training had been taking up most of her time. 

As she moved through the castle, she noticed everyone seemed to be in an uproar and anxious. She tended not to worry herself with the ongoings of the castle, or the city in general, but this felt different.

She arrived to the chamber of the hand of the king. She hears footsteps making their way down the corridor. At first she thought it was her father, but when she listened closely, the steps were fast, and frantic, like a man rushing to get somewhere.

Not the sounds of a man who recently had a spear driven through his thigh.

Arya decided to hide. She looked around the room, looking for a place where she would be unseen. Her father always kept his furnishing sparse. Weighing her option, Arya decide to climb out the window. Right outside the window, was a small ledge, just big enough for her to place her feet on. Her lessons with Syrio had greatly increased her balance, so she was able to comfortably place herself on the ledge, without fear of falling. 

The man who entered the room, was Renly Baratheon, the King’s younger brother. He looked anxious, he was breathing heavily. 

After several minutes, her father entered the room, along with two guards.

“Lord Stark. A moment….alone if you will?” Renly requests. Arya listens closely.

“He named you protector of the realm.” Renly says.

It wasn’t a question. 

Her father was protector of the realm? What had happened to the king? And why was Renly so concerned?

She remained out of sight as she continued to watch and listen.  
______________________________________________________________________________

His mother wasted no time. She had a startlingly quick mourning period. She was already planning the transition of power to Joffrey. Despite annoying him at times, his mother always had his best interest in mind, or at least what she thought his best interests were. 

He and his mother were in his chambers, discussing the next steps, coronation, what his first acts as king should be. She was rambling on details that he cared nothing about. All he knew is that he’d be king soon. The most powerful man in all the Seven Kingdoms.

*Knock Knock*

“Clegane? I thought I made it clear we were not to be disturbed.” Cersei says sharply towards the door.

“Aye, you did, but I think you’ll be wanting to hear what she has to say.” The Hound responds.

“She?” Cersei says, raising a blonde eyebrow “Enter.”

Clegane opens the door, and in walks Arya, face red and distressed, as if she ran there. Arya looks at Joffrey, then looks at Cersei, obviously not expecting her presence.

“The youngest Stark girl? Ayra. What are you doing here? Wh-“ 

“Mother, let me handle this.” He interrupts. His mother gives him a quizzical look, but stops nonetheless. Joffrey crosses the room to Arya, standing close to her. “What is it Arya?”

The Queen looks at the pair, confused by their familiarity. Once again, Arya’s eyes dart between him and his mother.

“It’s….I….Can I speak to you privately?” Arya asks.

“Anything you can say to me, you can say to her.” Joffrey states. He can see the conflict on her face, her eyes darting thinking on what to say.

“Joffrey, what is-“ Begins his mother.

“It’s my father…..and Renly! Renly wants my father to have you taking into custody! Renly wants to take the throne! “ She rambles out.

Joffrey would be lying if he said he wasn’t shocked by this revelation. He looked at Arya, and could tell by her fever that what she was saying was true. Cersei strode toward Arya, towering over her.

“Your father and Renly conspire to take the throne from the rightful heir?” She asks in an accusatory tone. Arya’s eyebrow knit together and she turns to her.

“No!” Arya shouts, before turning back to Joffrey. “He refused to. Said he wouldn’t dishonor Robert by spilling blood in his halls.” 

The Queen let out a bark of laughter. 

“So Stannis then? I imagine he’s already sent a message out to him.” She says. 

“Why?” Joffrey says suddenly. 

“What? I don’t know why he’d contact your un-“

No….why did you come and tell me?” Joffrey asks, boring into her eyes.

“I….” Arya begins, obviously trying to form the words.

“I just don’t want either of you to get hurt.” She whispers, looking at her feet. 

Joffrey can only stare.

Once again, she just gave him more than she could ever know. The Game of Thrones, the struggle of kings is nasty, and can turn bloody in a heartbeat. She - his Arya- came to him, wanting to protect him, protect him from her own family. She chose him. Not for the power he held; if she wanted that, she could’ve let her father do whatever he was planning. 

She chose him.

Joffrey pulls Arya into a searing kiss. Arya yelps in surprise, and struggles, not comfortable at the display of affection in front of his mother. But Joffrey was past the point of hiding her. He wanted her in all ways, and he wanted the world to know. Eventually Arya melted into the kiss, arms wrapping around his hips.

To her credit Cersei stood there silently, witnessing the display with a stoic face.

*Ahem*

The two pull away and look at Cersei. 

“Knowing this, we must take Lord Stark into custody. We can’t let him-““You can’t!” Arya yells “You can’t I came here to tell Joffrey. So they can talk. So they-“

“You’re father is a traitor to the crown-

“STOP. The both of you.” Joffrey orders. The two immediately stop their bickering. Joffrey thinks for a moment. 

“Mother….Plan my coronation as scheduled. We will give Ned Stark a chance. A chance to bend the knee to his new king.”

“And if he refuses?”

Joffrey pulls Arya close.

“I don’t think, he’ll be in any position to do so.” He says simply.

Arya looks up at him, concern in her eyes at his word. Joffrey simply looks down at her and smiles. 

Sometimes it’s easy to forget that he is a Lion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to upload early!
> 
> Happy early Christmas.
> 
> make sure to join my discord!
> 
> https://discord.gg/BSGNPMsEc8


	9. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decisions and revelations

Arya didn’t sleep a wink that night. 

She found herself in an untenable position. The two men in her life that meant the most to her - her father and Joffrey- were seemingly at odds with each other, for reasons she didn’t even fully understand,

Worst yet, she had no idea what either of them were planning. 

Joffrey had sent her to her room after she went to him. She had expected him to want her to stay, and maybe he did, but whatever he had going on in his mind, apparently needed her father to think that she was completely ignorant to all the going ons in the castle.

And her father…

He was a man who always tried to put on a brave face, to make it seem like he was in control of everything. But she had always been very observant, and she could see that he hadn’t been troubled like this in a long time. He hadn’t come and see her that night, obviously preparing for whatever he was going to do.

Arya absolutely hated not knowing. She was anxious, she was jittery. She didn’t want anyone to get hurt.

Suddenly there was a knock at her door. It was still very early.

“Who’s there?” She calls out.  
The door opens and in walks the Hound/ He looks at her with her signature passive face.

“It’s time girl.”

Arya gulped, and nodded her head. She noticed something under The Hounds arm. Fabric.

“What’s that” She asks.

“Oh this?” He says indicating to the fabric under his arm. “Just a request from the king.”  
______________________________________________________________________________  
Robert was dead. 

He hung on for longer than expected, making it through the night, but in the end death always collects. Joffrey felt a pang of sadness for the only father he had known, but he was pushing forward with his plan. He would be king by the fortnight, damned what Ned Stark or Renly Baratheon had to say about it. Honestly he would just order both of them to be arrested, but he knew that would upset Arya. He couldn’t very well just execute Ned Stark.

No, he had to play this smart.

Joffrey and his mother were in the throne room, preparing. Joffrey had already began referring to himself as king, taking the crown and the seat of the throne. No time like the present. Despite his cool veneer, Joffrey was a bundle of nerves. He knew that Ned Stark was a smart man, his obsession with “honor” notwithstanding. He was a popular man in the North and with many families. Not like his grandfather’s relationships, based on deals and mutual need. No, Ned Stark was a well liked man.

Action and reaction

Anything he did to him, could have some massive blowback. Joffrey had been king for all of an hour, and already he was burdened with these political strifes.

When Arya was led into the throne room by The Hound, Joffrey allowed himself to relax, and give a smile. His smile grew even larger when he realized that she was in his gift. 

A dress, southern style. Red with, with golden accents. The colors of House Lannister. 

Also, a necklace. A choker. A red band, with a gold pendant. 

Almost like a collar.

Joffrey thought she looked absolutely stunning.

Arya approached the throne, and Joffrey stood to meet her.

“Arya.” He said breathlessly. “You look amazing.”

Arya blushed under his praise.

“The dress is a bit tight.” She mumbles. Joffrey just smiles at her. His mother clears her throat behind them.

“I think it’s time we called Ned Stark to court.” She says, glaring at Arya while addressing Joffrey. Arya levels a glare back at the queen mother, before turning to Joffrey.

“Joffrey please do-“

“I won’t hurt you father unless he makes me” He interrupts firmly. Arya frowns, and looks away. Joffrey grabs her chin and makes her look at him. “I’ll give him a chance. A chance to bend the knee, and serve the realm like he served my father. It will be his choice. He can join me, or oppose me. It’s up to him.”

Arya still looked worried but remained silent. It was the best offer her father was going to get, she supposed. Her father wasn’t a dumb man. He was probably one of the smartest men in the realm tactically, but his ideas of honor were blinders for him.  
Hopefully he could remove them.  
______________________________________________________________________________

Joffrey called for Ned immediately after Arya arrived. To his credit, Lord Stark was formal enough not to keep the king waiting. He hobbled into the throne room with what remained of his personal guards. He was in a precarious position, but Stark was not a man to let that stop him.

As he walked in, his eyes landed on Arya. His face flashed between confusion, worry, and then indignation. He turned and addressed the king.

“Arya….your grace, what is this?” He questions. Arya gives him a sympathetic look, but says nothing.

“This is me taking oaths of fealty. I wish to be crowned within the fortnight.” He says addressing Ned. He then turned to look at Arya. “As for her. She’s insurance.”

Arya looked at him, confused by him describing her as insurance. The look in his eyes silently assured ‘Trust me’, so she remained silent.

“You threaten my daughter?” Ned asks, face turning hard. Arya hoped he didn’t try anything. He was still in no condition to fight, having to be aided into the room.

“No, Ned Stark. I do not wish to fight.” Joffrey stood from the throne, and began descending the stairs towards Ned and his guards . His mother mad a noise of protest, but he ignored her. “I know my father named protector of the realm.” He says as he steps forward. Ned seems shocked by his admission. “I also know you sent a letter to Stannis Baratheon, disputing my birthright. Don’t worry. We already taken the measures to intercept your rider.”

The tension in the room was palpable. Even then usually stoic Littlefinger and Varys were showing signs of concern. Joffrey was know only mere feet from Ned when he stopped, staring at the man.

“I also know Renly Baratheon wanted you to take me into custody. Why didn’t you?”  
Ned seemed shocked by the question. He stared at the young king for a few seconds before answering

“It would’ve disrespected your father’s memory.”

Joffrey snorted.

“Ned Stark, you are an honorable man. Honorable and stupid. You should’ve taken him up on his offer. Your attempted communicating with Stannis alone is enough to have you arrested for treason.” Joffrey explains. Arya holds her breath. She still had no idea what Joffrey might do.

“But I’m not going to do that.”

Joffrey then went silent, as if thinking on his next words. Arya noted he was showing a great deal of restraint. 

“I’m not going to do that, because of your daughter….Arya.”

There it was. Finally out in the open. Arya felt as if a burden had been lifted off of her shoulders. She also felt a little light-headed. Her father stared and him, then at her, then at him again. His face wasn’t angry. It almost looked remorseful. Reminiscent.

“Arya..” He father finally says. “Is this true?”

Arya swallows and nods her head. “Yes father, it is.” She says sincerely.

Ned looks back at Joffrey, who’s face relaxed a bit.

“I don’t know what doubts you have about my lineage, but I am the king. I am king Joffrey Baratheon, and I intend to remain as such, with your daughter at my side.”

Slowly Joffrey reaches out his hand.

“This can go two ways. You can take my hand, and bend the knee. I will forgive any transgressions you may have committed, under the FALSE information that you have been given. You can stay here, as my new Master of Laws, the position my uncle Renly was kind enough to leave open when he tucked tail and ran. You can remain here with your family. With your daughter, who WILL be my queen. Or, you can do something very very stupid. The choice is yours.” He says in ultimatum.

“There’s no reason our houses can’t still be united.” 

The room went silent once more, no one uttering a sound. Arya looked at her father, hoping, wishing, that he’ll make the right choice. For himself. For her. Ned stared at Joffrey’s hand, face pained with indecision. He takes a final look at Arya, who’s eyes are pleading. Finally, he makes his decision.

He grasps the King’s hand, and shakily, drops down to one knee.

Joffrey let out a sigh of relief

Arya let out a sigh of relief.

The collective room let out a sigh of relief.

Joffrey helped Ned back up to his feet.

He takes a look back at Arya, who hadn’t noticed light tears began running down her face.  
______________________________________________________________________________  
There was much to prepare, so Joffrey sent Ned, and Arya out of the court. The pair walked in complete silence. Eventually, they reached Ned’s quarters. Immediately he sat down heavily in the chair, physically and mentally exhausted. Arya stood there, and fidgeted, as her father breathed deeply.

“So….I supposed you’d like to know-”

“Did he force himself on you?” He asks suddenly. Arya is completely caught off guard by the question. 

“No!” She answers feverishly. In her head, she thought that might not have been strictly true. Some of the things Joffrey did to her, least early on, skirted the lines of ravishment. Hell even now, most of their sex was her being pinned down as Joffrey used her. But she loved every second of it. Though those weren’t the kind of details you share with your father.

Ned stared at her, looking for any trepidation. Any reason to march back into that throne room and run Joffrey through.

“I-I think I love him.” Arya says quietly. 

There it was, the word they had both been avoiding. Couldn’t run from it anymore.

Her father’s eyes went wide. Arya held his gaze, trying to soothe the doubt from his mind.

Slowly, Ned stood up. Arya thought he would try and leave and do something he might regret. 

Then he pulled her into a a tight hug.

“Ok.” He says softly

“Ok?” Arya repeats.

“Ok.”  
______________________________________________________________________________  
I-I think I love him

The words bounced around in Neds head as his daughter spoke.

He wanted to be angry. He wanted to feel some sense of duty as a father, to reject the man who he assumed dishonored his daughter. He wanted to feel this way.

But he didn’t

What he felt was regret.

The Tower of Joy. That’s where he found them

His sister Lyanne, and Rhaegar Targaryen.

It was a secret he’s held all this years. The fact that his sister eloped, and willingly married Rhaegar. They were in love. Most of the nation assumed that she was taken by the mad Targaryen in the heat of lust. That he ravished and killed her. That’s what his brother believed. That’s what Robert believed. Truth was, she died giving birth. Willing carrying the son of the dynasty he and Robert extinguished.

Ned always regretted never knowing his sister’s true feelings, what she really wanted, until she was bleeding to death in front of him. Ned always thought he was an observant man. Always prided himself on seeing things others couldn’t, yet he was completely blind when it came to the sister he loved dearly. 

And dow, decades later, he was yet again blind, this time with his youngest daughter.

Admittedly, due to his work as hand of the king, and learning about Joffrey’s true lineage, he had been neglecting his daughters. Maybe he would have seen this, if he had spent more time with them. He had gotten Arya a sword instructor, so she had something to do, and so he could keep her distracted during the day so that she wouldn’t bother HIM.

And now here she was, telling him that he loved the prince he tried to expose. He felt as if he was going to lose someone he loved all over again.

No.

He wouldn’t 

Because he made the right choice.

People always touted Ned as the most honorable man in the Seven Kingdoms. Truth is he was just a man. He held his sister’s secret for years. In his home. From his wife. He was a man willing to sacrifice his honor, for those he truly loved. His sister. And now his daughter. He wouldn’t see daughter die in a strange land. He’d be right here with her. He’d stay, as The new Master of Laws, under the king who loved his daughter, and he’d do his best to protect her, to keep her happy. 

Her happiness was worth his honor 100 fold over.  
______________________________________________________________________________  
His first day as king was as long as he expected, but sucessful. 

He was the king.

The conflict with Ned Stark was rectified without bloodshed. Joffrey was regretful that there was NO bloodshed; Renly had escaped before he could put his head on a pike. But as a king, he had to expect SOME disappointments in his life. As he climbed the stairs to his chambers, his NEW chambers, he saw his Hound standing at the door.

“Hound” he greets.

“Your grace.” The hound replies stoically. 

“I am not to be disturbed for the rest of the night.” He commands/ The Hound just smirks at him.

“You got that right.” The Hound replies.

Confused, Joffrey opens the door to his mew chambers, and kneeling on the very large bed, is Arya in a Lannister robe. Joffrey beams, and shuts the door behind him.

“Your Grace” Arya says cheekily.

“My subjects call me grace. You are to be my queen.” She says back. Arya’s face turns a shade of red and she smiles.

“Alright….my king.” She says huskily. She allows her robe to fall off her shoulders, revealing her nude body underneath. Joffrey felt himself growing hard at the sight.

“Come on Joffrey” she breathes out. “Let’s celebrate.”

Joffrey hurriedly strips out his clothes as he walks toward the bed. He crashes his lips to hers, pushing her onto her back. She throws her hands around his neck, as they devour each others mouths. After a while, she pushes him back, disconnecting their mouths. Joffrey looks at her strangely. 

“Get on your back” She says, and Joffrey complies immediately, switching places with her. Arya kisses him on the lips, then the neck, then his collar. She begins peppering kisses all down his body. When she reached his crotch, she kissed his hips, his lower stomach, his thighs; everywhere but his cock. She was having fun with this.

Groaning, Joffrey reaches down and grabs Arya harshly by her hair.

“Get on with it” He says in a mix of a bowl and a moan. Arya just smiles up at him, before going lower, and placing a kiss to each one of his large balls, as if blessing their future children. Slowly she arches her head up to his tip, and gives it an open mouth kiss, tongue popping out to swipe at his glands. Joffrey moans, as she slathers his head with affection. Slowly, she takes him into her mouth, still just suckling on the tip.

Typically, Joffrey liked to dominate, fucking into her mouth. Arya never complained at the rough treatment, but right then he would allow her to be in full control. Her mouth was heavenly. She took a bit more of him in his mouth, shallowly bobbing and sucking on half his cock, while her hand worked the other half. Joffrey had his heads threaded through her hair, but did not force her head. He kind of liked having his cock worshipped. Perks of being a king he supposed.

Arya removed his cock from his mouth and slapped it against her tongue several times while continuing to stroke him. Gods, he supposed he should be worried where she learned this, but in this moment if she told her all the whores of Flea Bottom gave her lessons, he wouldn’t care.

“Stop” Joffrey gasps out. He wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer if she continued the way she was, and he had no intention in spilling himself in her mouth, least not at the moment.

No,

He was now the king. And kings make heirs

Arya ceased her ministrations and looked up at him.

“You know how I want you” He says simply. Arya blushes and smiles slightly. She rolls out from between his legs, onto her back. She hooks her arms under her knees, spreading herself wide for him. Like when he first sheathed himself in her.

He lined his still glistening cock up with here entrance, and plunged into her, deep and hard. Arya threw her arms round his neck, pulling their mouths together. He feverishly pumped into her, fucking into her womb. He could feel his cock in her through her stomach.  
Arya moaned into his mouth, bucking her hips up to meet his harsh thrusts. She frees her hands from her legs, and slides them behind him, to his ass, trying to push him even deeper into her. 

Joffrey loves how she’s given herself to him; trying to be as filled with him as possible. And he’s given himself to her. In these moments, he couldn’t imagine himself fucking any other woman. Having any other woman be by his side.

He pulls his mouth away from her, and looks down at her. They stare at each other, never breaking eye contact, her gray into his blue. Joffrey fucks her even harder, feeling her wetness tighten around him. 

“FuckfuckfuckOhGods” Arya pants and moans as his cock plunges in and out of her cunt. 

Joffrey felt a familiar tightness in his balls, signaling he was going to come. Almost as if reading her mind, Arya begins moaning words of encouragement.

“Do it. Come in me. Fucking come in me, Breed me!” She moans lewdly. That’s all it took. Slamming his hips down, Joffrey begins to pump his seed deep in her. Arya pushes on his ass, making sure he’s as deep as he can be as her fills her. Her eyes roll back into her head at the sensation, as it drives her over the edge. He pumps his hips through his orgasm, making sure every drop of his cum is inside her.

When he feels his balls are empty, he slumps over on top of her, exhausted. They lay in comfortable silence for a while.

“Thank you” Arya finally says. Joffrey props himself on his elbows and looks at her.

“For what?” He asks simply.

Arya realized, that she didn’t even know what she was thanking him for.

Nonetheless, she felt thankful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally updated. I decided to not have Ned go to jail because 
> 
> A: I like Ned!
> 
> B: I'm REALLY mean to him in my other fic, The North Forgot, so it would seem excessive 
> 
> Anyway
> 
> Join my discord: https://discord.gg/BSGNPMsEc8


	10. Sansa's Fall - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa finds out the truth, in spectacular fashion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A single chapter that I decided to split up because it was a bit on the long side. Part two coming Monday

“You have to tell her” Her father suddenly says. 

Ned had called Arya into his new chambers. When she arrived, he gives her a rueful smile. Arya knew she wouldn’t like what he had on his mind.

“Tell who what? She questions. Her father just frowns at her.

“You know what.” He answers back. Arya looked at her feet. She did know. Sansa. 

As far as Sansa was concerned, she was still betrothed to Joffrey. A select few knew of Joffrey’s declaration of marriage to Arya, only those present in the throne room at the time. To Sansa, and most others, things were still on as originally planned. Her father stares at her, not letting her off the hook. She fidgets in front of him, like whenever she got in trouble when she was younger.

“Why can’t you tell her?” She finally mumbles. Ned frowns, but looks sympathetic. He gets up from his desk, walks over and puts his hand on her shoulder.

“Because I didn’t raise a coward” 

Arya’s eyes flash at him.

“I’m not a coward.” She says haughtily. Ned just smiles at her. 

“I know you’re not. That’s why I expect you to be honest with Sansa. I know you two don’t get along, and I know she’ll be hurt, but you have to tell her. It’ll be better for everyone.” He explains. Arya just snorts. Damn her father for always being honorable, but she had to admit, he was right. She’d eventually know anyway. Better to treat a wound than let it grow infected. Sansa would be heartbroken regardless, but Arya could try her best to make her see, to make her understand. 

It was for the best and-

*Knock Knock*

A knock at the door.

“Who’s there?” Ned calls out.

“It is just I.”

Varys.

The bald man enters the room with a look of concern on his face, which in turn, causes Ned to be concerned.

“What is it?” Ned asks.

“I think you need to come with me Ser Stark….your daughter might want to come too. There’s an incident in the garden.”  
____________________________________________________________________________  
Joffrey was honestly having a hard time.

Who knew being king would be so…consuming. The meetings, the lords and peasants coming to him with all their little problems. He never knew a moment of peace. Hells, he barely was able to see Arya given how late his nights went. He couldn’t wait until his grandfather arrived so he could take over as Hand of the King. He served as Hand previously. He’d help alleviate the burden, but for now, he had to deal with his mother who informally took it upon herself to act as the de facto hand. Always questioning him. Always babying him. Joffrey found himself slipping away to one of the many gardens of the hold when he had a free moment. It was his only respite from everything and everyone. There he could be alone.

Well, besides The Hound of course, who rarely left his side during the day. But unlike everyone else, The Hound never complained, which is why Joffrey liked him so much.

Joffrey stood in a garden, breathing deeply, The Hound stood not too far behind him. He used to hate when his mother brought him to the gardens. He thought of it as womanly, but now he saw the appeal. It was serene. He was able to relax and just-

“Joffrey!” A shrill voice calls out behind him. Joffrey flinches and looks back. 

Sansa.

Just what he needed. Fucking needed. He frowned and looked at The Hound, who just shrugged. Sansa walked towards him, with a big smile plastered on her face. That made him frown even more.

“Joffrey, your grace” She says walking up to him. “It is so good to see you. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen you last.”

“I’ve been busy,” He says stiffly.  
“Oh I know. My condolences on your father. He was a great man” Sansa says bowing her head. Sansa didn’t know his father. Who was she to talk about how ‘great’ he was.

“And now that you’re the king, we must begin to plan our wedding. Oh, it’ll be such a wondrous day. We’ll have birds and horses and-”

“Sansa” He tries.

“-I was thinking the we go with the color orange, to compliment the red and gold and-”

“SANSA” He tries once more.

“Our children will be so beautiful-”

“SHUT UP YOU DAFT COW!” He finally screams, pulling her out of her day dream. She looks at him as if she’s been slapped, eyes wide, mouth agape. He’s had enough of her, and her airheadedness. Luckily, he didn’t have to put up with her any longer.

“J-Joffrey, my love? Why would you say such a hurtful thing.” She asks, on the verge of tears. Joffrey just rolls his eyes.

“I am not your love.” He explains. “Our marriage contract has been terminated.”

Sansa’s eyes were now the size of saucers. 

“What do you mean? Was it something my father did?” She rambles out. She’s on the verge of hysterics. Joffrey hated hysterical women. He stayed silent, watching her with visible disgust. “Is-is there someone else?” 

“That’s none of your concern.” He answers, perhaps a bit too quickly because the look on Sansa’s face changs. Indignation flashes in her tear filled eyes. Joffrey didn’t want to deal with this, he felt a headache coming on. He motions to The Hound, and strides past Sansa towards the exit. 

“Is it a Tyrell?” Sansa calls out behind him. “I promise, I’ll be a much better wife than that-that whore! Joffrey please, I’ll be a dutiful wife. I’ll give you such beautiful, strong children.”

Joffrey stops in his tracks. He decided to have a little fun. If she wanted to know, who was he to keep it a secret. Afterall, they’d be related soon enough.

Joffrey turns to face her and smiles.

“Do you really want to know?” He asks in a pleasant tone. Sansa sniffles and nods her head feverishly.

“Well-”  
____________________________________________________________________________

Ned strides through the keep quickly, with Arya following close behind him.

‘Oh, what did that boy do?’ Thought Arya as they made their way to the garden. As they got closer, they could hear Sansa’s wails and cries. The noise only spurred Ned to walk faster, best he could still favoring one leg. When they arrived, a small crowd had formed, nosy spectators trying to be informed on the salacious going ons of the castle. 

Sansa sat in the middle of the garden, absolutely wailing, her face red, tears running down her cheeks, as Joffrey just stood there looking down at her. Ned pushes through the crowd, and kneels down next to Sansa.

“Sansa, please, calm yourself. What is the matter?” He asks, concerned. Joffrey scoffs and Ned shoots him a hard look. Sansa pays no mind to her father, and continues to cry and sob. Arya stands next to Joffrey and looks at him

“What did you do?” She whispers harshly in his ear

“Nothing. Just told her the truth.” He says nonchalantly. Arya frowns at him.

“You should’ve let me handle it.” She refutes. She knew Joffrey was blunt, but whatever he said to her turned her into a blubbering mess. He just scoffs and waves his hand.

“It doesn’t matter. She would’ve done...this regardless.” He says gesturing to Sansa.

Suddenly, Sansa’s wailing stops, and she locks her eyes on Arya. She scowls deeply, looking strangely ugly for such a beautiful girl.

“You-” Sansa growls, surprising Arya. Sansa was on her feet, quicker than Arya ever seen her move, and lunges at Arya. Arya’s sword training kicks in, and she sidesteps Sansa with ease, causing her to crash in a heap on the ground.  
“Sansa! Stop this” Ned yells, trying to get to his feet, but it falls on deaf ears. Sansa spins and gets up, and starts swiping her arms at Arya. 

“You ruined everything! You ruined everything you bitch!” She screams. Arya just dodges and deflects her blows, unsure of what else to do. She didn’t want to hurt her sister, even if she was acting like this. 

Joffrey, who had been in a bit of shock at the display, finally got his wits about him, and signaled to The Hound. The Hound walked up behind Sansa, wrapped his hand around her waist, and lifted her clear off the ground. Sansa kicked and wiggled, trying to break free, all the while still spitting venom at Arya. Joffrey walks up to the struggling girl, and slaps her across the face, hard. 

“ENOUGH” Joffrey says, tone leaving no room for argument. Everyone goes silent. “If you were anyone else, your head would be on a fucking pike for attacking my betrothed.”

The crowd begins to murmur. Looks like the secret was officially out to the public. Arya looks around. Everyone looks shocked, surprised that Joffrey would pick HER, over the beautiful Sansa Stark. She always hated having eyes on her, but she couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride at Joffrey’s public declaration of her. When she looks back at Sansa, her happiness is quickly dashed. Sansa looked catatonic. No longer screaming and crying; face just devoid of….anything. Arya didn’t like her sister, but she didn’t want this.

“Joffrey-” Ned starts.

“Careful Stark-” Joffrey interrupts. “Careful. This wouldn’t be happening if you didn’t have such a spoiled brat as a daughter.” 

Ned, frowns, but remains silent. Joffrey wasn’t wrong. Sansa’s behavior was inexcusable. Joffrey walks back to Arya, and grabs her hand. He begins to walk them out of the garden, but not before stopping next to The Hound. 

“Hound, take Lady Sansa to her rooms. Stay with her until she calms down, and makes sure she doesn’t do anything stupid like throwing herself from the tower.” Joffrey commands in a low voice. The Hounds looks a bit uncomfortable and then nods. Satisfied, Joffrey drags Arya out of the garden, leaving behind the spectators to gossip and speculate.  
____________________________________________________________________________

Your Sister

It didn’t make sense.

Your Sister

It just didn’t make sense. 

How, how could this have happened. She was supposed to be a princess. A queen. She did everything right, everything a good lady was supposed to do. She kept herself fit, did her makeup, was obedient; she did everything she was taught. 

Yet, she lost her chance at happiness, to-to-

Arya.

Fucking Arya. The Stark Wild Child. Joffrey had picked her. 

Sansa just couldn’t wrap her mind around it. It didn’t make sense. What, in the name of The Old Gods or the Seven, did he see in Arya? She plain faced, ill tempered, and had all the grace of a direwolf. Her one saving feature was her hips, which Sansa was secretly jealous of, though she’d never say it of course. 

It just didn’t make sense.

Maybe she did something to displease Joffrey? What could she have done? She tried to be attentive and dutiful, like her mother and septa taught her. Apparently it didn’t show for much. Fresh tears ran down her eyes as she laid in her bed and stared at the ceiling. The Hound had carried her to her room, and plopped her down. He was still stationed outside her door. She felt like a prisoner. 

‘Who would want me now?’ She thought miserably. She had caused a scene in public. People had seen Joffrey reject her. It was only a matter of time before word got out, that she wasn't good enough, at least that’s what she thought. She convinced herself that her father would now have to marry her off to a lesser lord just to get rid of her. She envisioned a whole wretched life for herself as she laid in bed.

She couldn’t handle this. She needed something, anything to take her mind from her thoughts. She turned her head to her night stand.

Wine.

By custom, the servants brought wine to the room everyday. Sansa rarely partook in it, being taught to be conservative with it by her father.

Fuck it.

She figured the whole castle thought she was trash anyway, might as well indulge a bit.  
___________________________________________________________________________

Sansa was absolutely piss drunk. Not that it took much. 2 cups already had her head feeling light, and here she was on her fifth. Sansa’s face was as red as her hair at this point. But the alcohol had the intended effect: she was no longer sad, now, she was just absolutely livid.

How dare Arya?

How dare she take something that was her birthright. She was the oldest after all. It was right to be given the most favorable marriage options, and all that came with it. But Arya, like the little gremlin she was, had to scamper in and ruin everything for.

‘She probably doesn’t even like him. She probably thinks this is all a big game, just to get at me’

That had to be it, she thought. Arya had never shown any interest in princes or the prospect of marriage before. In fact, she actively derided it. Why would she have a sudden change of heart?

Who knew wine could be so enlightening. 

Sansa took a sip from her empty cup. Noticing her wine ran dry, she throws it across the room in annoyance. The goblet clanged against the far wall, before clattering to the ground.

Strange

Maybe it was the wine, but Sansa swore she saw the wall give where the goblet hit. 

Getting to her feet, Sansa stumbles across the room to the wall. It looked as if some of the stone had shifted. She pushed on the offending area, and the stone, or rather the egress that was fashioned to look like stone, swung open inwards. Sansa squatted down to get a better look. 

A passage. Well this was might interesting. 

Sansa had heard about the Mad King’s paranoia. That he had built in trap doors, safe rooms, and even rumors of a passage system to move throughout the castle covertly. She supposed the rumors were fact.

Looking at the passage, Sansa’s wine fueled mind began to turn.  
____________________________________________________________________________

The girl had been strangely quiet, The Hound thought.

She had been pretty consistently sobbing for the last few hours. He heard a clang a while ago, but figured she dropped something. He supposed he should check on her though, to make sure she hadn’t split her own wrist open.  
The Hound opened the door and peaked in. He saw a mass under the covers of the large bed.

‘Hm. Sleeping. Finally cried herself to sleep.  
____________________________________________________________________________

Sansa drunkenly shuffles through the tunnels, not knowing where she was going. She just wanted to be out of her gilded cage of her room. The tunnels were dark, illuminated only by the small candle she brought. 

Maybe this was a mistake. It’d be rather anticlimactic if she tripped and died in these tunnels, unbeknownst to anyone. 

The tunnels had various branching paths, and without any fort of map, Sansa just picked aimlessly. On the current path she was on, Sansa could make a faint light in front of her. She keeps walking until she hits a wall, no, a door, She pushes slightly, and it opens, only to more darkness. Confused, she steps forward and feels fabric. She steps forward more and before she knows it, she’s falling forward, landing on her stomach. 

The secret passage apparently was built to lead into a wardrobe. 

But not any wardrobe. 

Sansa got her bearings and looks around.

She was in Joffrey’s rooms.

She beams at no one in particular. The Gods were truly in her favor, showing her the passage, and then showing her the way. Now she could talk to Joffrey. Reason with him. Shoe him that she was the one he should be marrying, not Arya. She could.

“Piss off!”

Sansa froze. She thought someone was reading her mind, but then realized the voice came from the sitting from the sitting room. It was Arya’s voice.

Sansa hops back in the wardrobe, and closes it, leaving just enough for her to peak through and see what was happening. Arya marches into the bed chamber with a deep scowl on her face. Joffrey follows closely behind her.

“You can’t talk to me like that. I’m the-”

“Oh come off it!”

Sansa was shocked at how Arya was talking to Joffrey. She expected him to react harshly, like he did with her, but surprisingly, his face softened.

“What do you want me to say.” He asks.

“I don’t want you to say anything.” Arya replies, folding her arms.

“I’m sorry-.” He tries. Arya gives an unlady like snort.

“No you’re not.”

Joffrey smiles at this and shrugs.

“You’re right, I’m not. Sansa was a pain in my ass. Now she knows where she stands.”

Sansa nearly whimpers. To hear Joffrey talk about her like that. She wants to retreat and run back to her room, but she continues to watch.

“You didn’t have to hit her” Says Arya, frowning. “You didn’t have to THREATEN her.”

Joffrey just waves his hand dismissively.

“She was attacking you. What kind of king would I be if I let someone attack my betrothed without consequence.” He explains. Sansa frowns from her hiding spot. SHE was meant to be his betrothed. 

“I can handle myself Joffrey.”

“Why do you even care so much? You hate your sister.”

Arya goes silent, and looks at the ground. Sansa wonders if her sister really did hate her. She knew they never really got along, in fact they were polar opposites, but hate? Sansa didn’t think she was that bad of a sister to her. Sure she made fun of how she looked, and demanded all the nicest things over Arya, and disapproved of her personality, but she also…..she also-

In that moment, it dawned on Sansa that she couldn’t think of one nice thing she did for Arya. Not one thing that they bonded over. They were always at each other’s throats. Maybe….maybe Arya did-

“I don’t hate her. ” Arya says in a small voice. Sansa let herself smile at her sisters words, She didn’t hate Arya either.

“Well it’s no matter. What’s done is done. The Hound is watching her so she doesn’t do anything stupid. So now…-”  
Joffrey began to run his fingers up Arya’s arm. Arya pulls back, nose wrinkling in annoyance.

“Really? You think I’m in the mood for you right now, after all you’ve done today?”

Joffrey just gives her a smirk.

“Cute that you think you have any say in the matter.”

With that, Joffrey grabs Arya roughly by her hair. She winces as he pulls her into a kiss. Immediately, she melts into it, hands going to his head, pulling him in deeper.

‘Oh my...they’re not going to-’

The two kiss and move until they fall onto the bed. They begin ripping at each other’s clothes, stripping layer after layer, until they’re both left in their small clothes.

‘My Gods, they are!’ 

They were going to fuck. She should've known Arya never did anything by tradition. Sansa shouldn’t be surprised that she gave up her maidenhead before marriage. She felt scandalized….but also a bit jealous. Everything they were doing just looked so intense to her, passionate. Nothing like the songs and poems about lovemaking.

“Roll onto your stomach” Joffrey commands. Arya does without hesitation, sticking her ass up in the air, wiggling it. Joffrey lifts his hand and reigns down a slap to her ass, causing her to moan out. He delivers another to her other cheek, watching it ripple and jiggle on contact.

‘Hmph. It’s not fair that Arya was given such an ample backside. I’m the oldest!’ Sansa thought drunkenly.

Joffrey rolls Arya’s smallclothes down her thighs, exposing her dripping cunt. He then lowers his own, and his cock bobs free. Sansa can’t help but stare. It was bigger than she had thought he’d be, not that she thought of his cock. That would be unladylike.

Joffrey lines his cock up with Arya’s entrance, and rams forward. Filling her. Arya moans out lewdly as Joffrey sets a rough pace. 

‘I-is he always like this?’ Sansa questions at Joffrey’s rough treatment of her sister. He’s gripping her hips, ramming into her with force. He calls her names like ‘whore’ and ‘cunt’, and Arya just moans and take hit, fucking back into his thrusts.The loud slapping of their fucking fills the room.

Sansa can’t handle this. She should return to her room, and try to scrub this memory from her mind, but her feet feel like stone, not allowing her to move. So she does the second best thing: She covers her ears and shuts her eyes, trying to drown them out, and place herself somewhere else.  
____________________________________________________________________________ 

2 hours.

It took 2 hours for their fucking to finally stop, with Joffrey roaring, and telling Arya to take his seed. Sansa lost track of how many times Arya yelled out in climax; after a while her moaning and screams blended together. Yes, after 2 hours of crotches slapping, moaning, cursing and smacking, did silence fall over the room. Sansa decided to wait another 2o minutes before peaking her head out.

Joffrey and Arya were laying in the large bed, fast asleep; exhausted from their love making. Sansa quietly stepped out of the wardrobe, and walked toward the bed. She looked over them, in each other’s arms, still covered in sweat. The room smelled like sex. She looked over them, and she wanted to hate them. She wanted to hate them for making her feel terrible, making her feel unwanted.

But she couldn’t. 

She still felt utterly miserable, but she couldn’t bring herself to hate them. They just looked so happy there, in each other’s arms. Maybe she should’ve seen this coming. Their kiss, all those months ago on the Kingsroad. The passion in it. It was all so obvious now, but hindsight never helped anyone.

He had chosen Arya. And that was that. No tantrum Sansa could throw would change that. She was his, and he was hers. 

And Sansa was nobody’s and had no one.

She decided now was a good time to return to her room.

But not before swiping the wine on the nightstand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to follow me on twitter if you enjoyed
> 
> https://twitter.com/IceT666
> 
> Also join my discord: https://discord.gg/wgU5cenbbe


	11. Sansa's Fall - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuation of Sansa's evening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does Sansa have possibly attachment issues.....i mean-

*CLANG. CRASH!*

What the fuck was that? The Hound turns and opens Sansa’s chamber door. He walks in, and sees Sansa, stumbling through a hole in her wall, with a pitcher of now spilt wine in front of her. He then looks to the bed, where it APPEARS that the girl is still sleeping, confused and more than a little annoyed, he marches to the bed, and pools the covers back, Laying there is a nightgown, filled with pillows, making it seem someone was there asleep. The Hound exhales deeply before striding over to the girl, struggling to get to her feet. Honestly, he was pissed. He had been fooled by a cheap trick and the girl apparently found some way out the room to do gods’ know what. The Hound grabs her by the shoulders, lifting her to her feet. He notices her face is red and flushed, and eyes unfocused. She was absolutely pissed off her ass.

“Where have you been, girl? How did you get out of your room?” He asks roughly. Sansa pays no mind to him, frowning at the spilt wine on the ground. 

“I spilled my wine.” She says drunkenly The Hound shakes her slightly to get her attention. 

“Oi, I’m talking to you. Where have you been?” He asks again. He cranes his neck to look at the hole in the wall, trying to see if he could see where it led.

“Oh calm down doggy, I just went for a walk. Hehe, doggy. You think I’d make a good dog?”

‘What the fuck is she on about? How much had she had to drink?’

“I wouldn’t make a good wife apparently, maybe I’ll make a good dog! Woof! Woof woof!”

‘Right, she’s completely lost it’ The Hound thought as Sansa continues to bark like a dog. Suddenly she leans forward and licks the unscarred side of his face. Surprised, he drops her. She falls to the ground, landing on her bum. She rolls onto her hands and knees, and continues to bark, crawling around the floor mimicking a dog. 

Clegane has absolutely no idea how to address this. He was just a guard for Gods’ sake. He wasn’t qualified to handle...this. 

“Girl, maybe it’s best you went to bed.” He begins carefully. She just looks up at him.

“Dogs sleep on the floor” She answers back, curling up into a ball on the floor. Sandor rubs a gauntlet covered hand on his face. He was dealing with a child. A drunken child.

“You’re not a dog, you’re a lady, and ladies sleep on nice fancy beds.” He retorts. Despite his nature, he was trying to be delicate. He didn’t want her going into a fit, or trying to go through that hole in the wall until he could figure out what it was. 

“If I was a lady, then someone would want me, and no one does” She says solemnly. She looks as if she’s about to start balling again, and The Hound wanted to avoid that at all costs. Gently, and awkwardly, he squats down and places a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“You’re a pretty lady. Of course someone wants you. They’d be a damn fool or blind not to.”

While his intention was to calm her down, there was some earnest truth in his words. Sandor thought Sansa was a beautiful young woman. There were many ladies of westeros, and not many could be said to be as beautiful as Sansa Stark. 

“Do….do you want me ser?” Sansa asks in a quiet voice. The Hound’s eyebrows went to his crooked hairline. Sansa just stared at him, eyes boring into his, earnestly. He wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to the question. 

“I….am not a ser” He answers, trying to deflect the question, but even in her drunken state, Sansa saw his avoidance. She frowned, and tears started forming in the corner of her eyes. “Oh gods, don’t start that again.”

“Even you don’t want me” She cries, breath hitching and hiccupping. “I’m destined to be a spinster.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t” He answers quickly, maybe too quickly, because suddenly Sansa throws her arms around his neck, and presses a hard kiss to his mouth. It takes Clegane a second to process what is happening, before he reluctantly pushes her back. She pouts up at him.

“What are you doing?” She whines.

“I should be asking you that.” He replies gruffly. She ignores him and tries to go in for another kiss, but he holds her at bay with his hand flat against her chest. 

“You said you wanted me. You can have me.”

“Sansa…”

“Really! I-I’ll do whatever you like, You can do anything you want to me! Do you want to hit me, call me names, spit on me? You can!”

The Hound thought she sounded and looked delirious, her face was still red from the wine, her nostrils were flaring like an animal, and her eyes were dilated and rapidly looking back and forth. Yet he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find her word incredibly arousing, feeling himself begin to grow hard under his armor. He was just a man after all. A man of little honor at that. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about girl. You’re drunk. You want nothing to do with a mean old dog.”

The Hound moves to stand, to remove himself from this situation before his baser instincts kick in, but Sansa grabs his arm. He looks at her, and she’s staring at him in pure desperation. 

“Please….don’t reject me too.” She practically begs. “Please,”

He stares at her for a long time. He should just leave. She’ll be sober in the morning, and her melancholy will be lessened. But in that moment, the pure need in her voice…..well he was just a man after all.

“Take off your dress” He says simply. This was probably a bad idea, but he could deal with the consequences in the morning. Right now, he was going to enjoy the first woman he never had to pay for. A lady no less.

Sansa seems surprised by his sudden change in attitude, but then smiles brightly at him. She stands quickly, and begins to pull down the shoulder of her dress, but then stops. She looks at The Hound nervously.

“What? First time naked in front of a man?” He asks, already knowing the answers. Part of him hoped that her embarrassment would make her come to her senses.

A part of him.

Sansa looked at him fiercely, before continuing to strip. Despite a bit of drunken fumbling of her hands, Sansa was soon standing in front of the man in nothing but her small clothes. The Hound took a moment to admire Sansa. She was tall, with long, surprisingly toned legs. Her breasts were large, but not too large as to be disproportionate to her body. Her nipples were pink and pebbled. He continued to stare at her as he began to remove his armor. Having done it so many times, he was able to get it down to a few minutes. Sansa just stood there, eyes not meeting his, arms folded submissively behind her back. 

Once his armor was completely removed, he steps forward. Sansa looks at him with a nervous smile on her face. 

“Now the smallclothes” He says simply. Sansa swallows, but obeys regardless, bending down, to push her smallclothes down her long legs. She steps out of them, kicking them to the side. When she stands back up, her hands instinctively go to cover her womanhood. The Hound just snorts.

“A bit late to be embarrassed innit?” He teases. 

“W-what’s next?” She asks sheepishly.

“Next? Next you get on your knees.” He answers. Clegane places a large head on the top of her head, and pushes down. She gives no resistance, immediately sinking down to her knees. She looks up at him, awaiting his next command.

“Pull my pants down.” He orders. Shakily, Sansa reaches out and grabs the waste of his breeches. She pulls them down, along with his smallclothes, letting his cock flop free. He was only half hard at the moment, but even at half mast, his cock was intimidating. Hanging 7 inches, Sansa’s eyes widened at the sight of it. She inspected it curiously, appraising the skin, the veins, and its general shape. Slowly, she reaches her hand out, and touches the shaft. The Hound grunts at the contact, which seems to embolden Sansa, who wraps her small hand around him, and gives him a few experimental pumps. She looks up at him, looking for his approval.

“Put it in your mouth.”

Sansa leans forward, and gives the head a small lick. She pulls back and mulls the taste in her mouth. Sweat, and salty, but not actually unbearable. She leans forward again, opening her small mouth as wide as she can, before engulfing the head. She just holds her in her mouth for a while, not really sure of how to move forward. She sucks in, hollowing her cheeks, and moves her head a bit, giving his cock a shallow bob, and then another, and another. She feels him growing in her mouth, stretching her jaw as he comes to his full, eleven inch size. She continues to shallowly bob her head and suck on the head of his cock, taking in maybe 3 inches of him, with her hand slowly pumping the rest of his length. After a few minutes, she pulls back and looks up at him, still stroking him.

“Am I doing good? She asks earnestly. Truthfully, she was a bit shit at this. She didn’t know how to keep her teeth back, she wasn’t taking him deep enough, and her pumps were without rhythm and erratic, but something told Clegane that wouldn’t be conducive to share. Sansa leans forward to take him back into her mouth, but Clegane stops her. She looks up at him confused. 

“Stand up, and get on the bed”

Her eyes go a bit wide, apparently picking up on intentions. She stands and moves toward the bed.

“H-how do you want me” She asks nervously. 

“Don’t you know? I’m a dog. So we’ll do it like dogs do.” He teases. She just gives him a confused look. The Hound laughed to himself. It was easy to forget how innocent she really was. “On your hands and knees, little bird.”

Sansa obeys, and crawls on the bed propping herself on her hands and knees. She looks over shoulder at The Hound, giving him a nervous ,lusty look. She wiggles her ass at him, as she saw Arya do to Joffrey. The Hound flares his nostrils, and crawls on the bed to join her, rubbing his hand over the flesh of her ass as he does. Sansa moans, and leans back into his groping hand. Slowly he transitions his hand between her legs, rubbing it over her slit. Sansa jolts at his touch. This was the first time she ever had hands on her cunt. Sansa had always refrained from touching herself, despite often having the urge to during her formative years. She found it to be unlady like. But right now, she didn’t give a fuck about being a lady. She moans wantonly as The Hound's fingers tease and edge her cunt open, before plunging in.  
He might have been a bit rough around the edges, but The Hound knew a thing or two about foreplay. He prided himself on being able to get the whores that he fucked off. But this was no whore.

This was a lady.

He could feel her cunt get wetter and wetter as he pistoned his fingers in and out of her, and judging by her moans and her burying her face in the sheets, she was likely ready as she was going to be for the main course. He withdrew his fingers, causing Sansa to whine in protest. She props herself back up on her hands, and looks over shoulder once again. She eyed his cock bobbing in the air, and then at Clegane’s scarred face.

“I’ll try and be gentle” He assures, but surprisingly, she shakes her head at him. 

“Don’t be. I said you can do what you want to me. I meant it” She says, sounding more like she was trying to convince herself than she was him. The Hound just snorts, and positions himself between her legs, grabbing her by her hips, pressing his head to her opening. She groans as he begins to push forward into her, his cock head spearing her cunt. She falls down to her forearms as he sinks deeper into her soon. Soon he’s at the barrier that all maidens have. He looks at her, to check for any signs of her wanting to go back, and then presses forward, breaking through her maidenhead.

Sansa lets out a whimper at the pain. She bleeds, but less than The Hound would’ve anticipated. He holds himself still, despite every fiber of him telling him to move. She’s tight, probably the tightest cunt he’s ever been in.

“Gods, MOVE already.” She suddenly cries out, startling The Hound. 

“I just don’t want to-”

“I can handle it! Now fuck me!” She yells, tears forming in the corner of her eyes. 

Fuck it. If she wanted to play this game, he’d oblige her.

Gripping her hips tighter, he begins to thrust into her, slow strokes, but hard, each snap of his hips jolting her forward. 

“UNH…UNH…UNGH…UNH…UNGH…UNH!” She grunts and groans as he fucks into her. She tries to meet his thrusts the best she can, but her drunken state and inexperience make her rhythm a mess. 

“Put your face in the sheets” He commands. Sansa obeys, putting her head down in a submissive pose, and laying her arms flat against the bed. Satisfied by her position, The Hound readjust himself to kneel on one knee, while he maneuvers his foot firmly to the back of Sansa’s head. 

Then he begins to rail her.

His thrusts pick up speed, faster and harder. Sansa screams under him, gritting her teeth at the brutal and humiliating onslaught. 

“This is what you said right? That I could do what I wanted?” He taunts as he continues to brutally fuck her. The Hound would be lying if he wasn’t thoroughly enjoying this, but he also wanted to put some fear in the girls heart. She gave herself to him so easily. Him, the big ugly dog. Ladies who acted like this weren’t long for this hard world, and if she wanted to make it, she had to learn the hard way. At least that would’ve been the case, if Sansa wasn’t being responding like a whore at his abuse. Her cunt was absolutely drenched and dripping as he fucked her hard, and her screams had given to moans and expletives.

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh gods” She moans. “Yes! You can do anything you want to me! Please….I’m yours! I’m fucking yours!” 

‘Gods, she really is off her rocker’, The Hound thought, but he surely wasn’t complaining. Removing his foot from her head, he reaches down and pulls her by her hair upright. Sansa squeals as she’s suddenly pulled to only her knees, and The Hound presses a firm kiss to her mouth. Immediately her arms reach back to wrap them around his neck as they kiss and he continues to fuck her hard. She breaks the kiss and looks at him, eyes delirious.

“Something’s happening! Something- OH FUCK!” She yells as she’s brought to her first orgasm. Clegane lets go of her, allowing her to fall forward, off of his member. She shudders and trembles, enjoying the high that her orgasm brought her, but he’s not finished yet. Clegane flips her over onto her back, and spreads her legs apart. He re enters hard, fucking her missionary, while pawing at her breasts.

“Gods, your tits are nice.” He says tweaking her nipples, and squeezing the flesh in his hand.

“Better then my sisters?” She asks panting and moaning. Not wanting to unpack the implications of that, The Hound chooses to ignore it, instead sliding his hands down, one on her hip, the other between their crotches to play with her clit. 

“Oh gods oh gods ser” She moans and whines, hips grinding and bucking as thrusts into her deep.

“I’m not a fucking ser.” he growls before leaning down and kissing her again. Sansa claws at her back and wraps her ankles around his hips. The Hounds grunts and thrusts become more ragged and erratic, indicating he’s close.

“Are you going to cum” Sansa asks in a moan. “Don’t come in me! You can’t. You’ll fill me up! You’ll knock me up! 

Despite her words, Sansa kept her ankles locked around his hips, pulling him in deeper into her. He hadn’t really planned to pull out regardless. Consequence be damned. With one more snap of his hips, The Hound bottomed out in her cunt, coming deep in her. The sensation brought Sansa over the edge again, and she clawed at his back as he pumped his load into her. 

The Hound collapses on top of her, surprisingly exhausted. He hadn’t had a fuck like that in ages. She seems comfortable under his weight, peppering light kisses to his chest until she passes out from exhaustion. The Hound finds himself soon to follow.  
____________________________________________________________________________

The Hound awoke before the sun was up, as he was accustomed to.

Now was as good of a time as any to leave. Clegane rolled out of Sansa’s bed, trying not to stir her. He quietly walked over to his discarded clothes and armor.

Yes, the Hound figured he’d have a few hours to make it out of Kingslanding before the Stark girl inevitably woke up sober, and told her father he ravished her. He’d go back to his quarters and get some supplies, before riding towards The Riverlands. That was his best bet to avoid the wrath of The North and-

“Ser? Where are you going”

Clegane froze and looked toward the bed. Sansa was sitting upright and watching him. Oddly, she didn’t seem distressed at all. In fact, she looked a bit sad.

“You weren’t leaving were you?” She asks, frowning.

“I…..Girl….Do you remember last night?” He asks, unsure of what to say. Sansa smiles brightly at him.

“Do I remember? How can I forget sir. Our lovemaking was nothing like the songs or poems it was..it was so much better.” She says dreamly. The Hound just stares at her as if she just grew another head. She certainly didn’t look drunk still, but her words made no sense to him.

“Come back to be ser” She requests. Sandor mouth gapes, trying to process what was going on. This girl...wanted him there? He needed to leave and contemplate….everything, but found himself unwilling to just leave without explanation. 

“I can’t M’lady.” 

Sansa frowns, and looks a bit distressed. 

“Why? Was it something I did?” She asks in a panicked voice.

“No, of course not. It’s just….your father. Surely he’ll come see how you’re doing soon. And I don’t think he’ll be too keen on finding me in your bed.” He explains. Sansa’s eyebrows knit together in consideration, and then she nods, seemingly accepting his answer. He turns to get dressed and pulls on his armor. When he turns around, she’s suddenly standing close to him, still in the nude. She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him into a kiss. Clegane, sensing if he didn’t break the kiss now, he’d have her again, pulled back.

“I’ll see you again soon?” She asks hopefully with doe eyes. It was a bad idea, but The Hound nods, earning another smile from the Stark. She lets go of him, and allows him to walk to the door. As he pulls it open, he hears her.

“Thank you….for choosing me ser.”

He doesn’t look at her, and continues out the door.

“I’m not a ser” he mumbles, before making his way to his quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa barking like a dog came to me in a dream (or in a discord chat where by buddy said it would be kinda hot)
> 
> Also the secret passages in the castle is something i've seen in a few other fics, and thought it was neat
> 
> Speaking of discord, you should join my server if you like my work!
> 
> https://discord.gg/wgU5cenbbe


End file.
